


The Shackles of Fate

by ElmiDol



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: AU, Cunnilingus, Dark Fairy Tale Elements, Dark Fantasy, F/M, Faerie AU, Oral, Tag As I Go, dubcon, faerie tale, some blood play, some violence
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2021-02-17
Packaged: 2021-03-03 23:28:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 34,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24653860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElmiDol/pseuds/ElmiDol
Summary: If one misses curfew it is not only their life that is on the line, but their very soul. You are unlucky enough to encounter the fallen faerie prince when you miss curfew. He decides to claim your soul for himself rather than turn it over to the Master he has been enslaved by. As you are drawn further into his world, you learn more of your own past and how it is connected to the stories of your childhood.
Relationships: Ben Solo/Reader, Ben Solo/You, Kylo Ren/Reader, Kylo Ren/You
Comments: 41
Kudos: 78





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a fic idea I have revamped from a previous piece. For those familiar with it, this version will be darker and more explicit. I will add the appropriate trigger warnings as they come up.
> 
> Feedback is encouraging and greatly appreciated!

** The Shackles of Fate **

_One_

There had been no faeries where you had grown, although you oftentimes had listened to such tales with wonder. Rey, the one constant that had been in your life in terms of someone who cared about you, had been there to hear the stories. Most had spoken of the faeries with adoration. It had startled both you and Rey the first time that a person had responded harshly, the hissed out whisper to be silent so that one could not be allowed into this realm catching you off guard. Rey had recovered first, grabbed hold of your hand, and tugged you away from the adult. That had been the year in your childhood that you had learned most stories hid the truth. Those some regarded as faeries were, to others, no more than vengeful demons or imps. Only a handful of true faeries remained, each of them set to guard the portals that would allow the demons to enter the realm. Wartime took away happiness and laughter, which the creatures had once been sustained by.

It had been war that had stolen away Rey’s parents and placed her into your life. The remnants of her noble bloodline had been eliminated in a single stroke. Only by denying where she came from had she been allowed to live. Neither you nor Rey spoke of this truth. Instead it became another layer of the stories you listened to on the streets.

As you had grown into a young woman, you had released fantasies in favor of harsh reality. Rey had made this transition first; she had always been stronger in those regards. You spoke not of faeries or imps, and certainly not of demons when one asked for a story. Such tales did not spill from your lips even once you became a nursemaid. There were other, more whimsical tales for you to read the children at night before the lights were turned out for bed. The older children protested these, which resulted in them being placed in a separate room from the younger kids.

Once the children were all nestled in their beds, you would return to your own room. It was a quiet corner of the house, and large enough to store only the most basic of belongings. With work scarce, you considered yourself lucky. Rey had to travel for her job to ensure enough money was made. The family that you worked for allowed her to room with you when she was in town, however this meant that you took a docked pay for that period. You never once complained about that stipulation despite the scowl Rey wore any time she or you happened to mention it.

During work you were known as _Miss_ or _Nursemaid_. At night, when you were alone, and on the rare occasions you had a day off, your name was used. That was often when you felt most like an individual, human.

You stared at your reflection in the wall-length mirror that was hung on the wall across from the door. You reached up into your hair and unwound the bun that kept it together then raked your fingers through the locks. In comparison with what society generally demanded, the length was short for a female. You found that you did not care for anyone else’s opinion on these matters. The small clock sitting on your bedside dresser noisily counted the passing seconds. Your gaze flicked to its face prior to returning to your reflection. You swallowed thickly, your nostrils flaring as you inhaled in preparation of choking down all of your emotions.

As you had grown into a young woman, faerie tales had _become_ a harsh reality. What once had been a bedtime story was now a school lesson. Though you were not charged with tending to the children’s studies, you nevertheless were familiar with the tales.

_Careful now, at the stroke of nine;_

_He’ll steal your soul then take mine._

_The demon king of which faeries spoke._

_The dreaded demon known as Snoke._

_But rest you, now, upon the bed,_

_And tonight you will not join the dead._

To ensure that you did not miss curfew, you brushed your teeth when the children did. Their parents would be tucked into their beds as well. Observing yourself in the mirror, you removed your clothes and dressed into a thin nightgown that would not cause you to sweat in the heat of the night. Your heart pounded in your chest and you stopped breathing. Your eyes darted to the clock once more. Though it _sounded_ like it was counting the seconds, in truth the hand was stuck. It clicked then twitched backwards.

Your lips formed around the words _oh no_. You leapt onto the bed, the blue comforter bunching up as your knees pushed it. Your hands landed upon the wall with a loud smack and thud. Try as you might, you could only guess how much time had truly passed since you had left the children. You twisted to peer around the room and felt your stomach plummet at the shadowy creature in the far corner.

It was crouched and shrouded in black attire. Robes, from what you could tell. Only when you squinted—though, in truth, you would have preferred to close your eyes—you were able to make out the outline of wings. That was worse than the fanged creatures other spoke of glimpsing. Wings meant that this thing, this _monster_ , had once been a faerie until Snoke had drowned its light in darkness. They were less merciful. From the relatives of those who had perished, the most violent deaths occurred when former faeries were drawn into this realm.

A sharp cry cut through the silence of the night. This was proof that you had not been the only one caught out of bed past the stroke of nine. You thought of the children that you cared for and Rey. You wished that she had been there; she would not have allowed you to remain out of bed. On the other hand, you were grateful. She would have challenged this creature for your soul, which it surely would attempt to claim. The cries from outside turned more shrill then transformed into a wet gurgle.

Your eyes darted away from the faerie, which had not yet stirred and continued to observe you, as you attempted to locate a weapon with which to defend yourself. Not that it would do much good. Faeries had access to magic. What would have healed now became a weapon to destroy.

You trembled then cursed your body for giving into fear. There came a noise from the corner. It sounded like a chuckle. But that _couldn’t_ be right. If it was, you thought with a grimace, then this monster enjoyed your discomfort. You clenched your jaw, tilted back your head, and stared down your nose at the creature. “I’m not afraid of you,” you hissed through your teeth. You tried to think of what Rey would do. She would not go down without a fight.

Your eyes followed the faerie’s every move as it rose to its full height. The tales from your childhood, those nicer ones that you had so loved as a little girl, depicted faeries as small. Reality showed things to be quite the opposite—unless it was capable of altering its size. “You have that smell.” You did not have time to wrap your head around the deep sound of his voice. And it _was_ male. You were more preoccupied with the words he had said.

What did they mean? And, more importantly, why had he not killed you?

“Who are you?” There was an edge to the faerie’s voice now. He took another step nearer to you. His hands, covered by leather gloves, curled into fists only for his fingers to extend the next second. The dark faerie lunged forward. You pinched your lips as you watched the death of your clock. Seized by the creature’s hand, it was enshrouded by a dark glow and fell to pieces. What startled you was the lack of sound. A vacuum of dark energy?

Opening his hand, the creature allowed the remnants to fall to the floor. You remained still throughout, and did not budge an inch when he returned his attentions onto you. The unnamed creature bent at the waist. Only now could you appreciate just how large he was in comparison. Only now did you realize he wore a helmet. With a hiss of air, the helmet was pulled back. You looked to the side with your eyes alone. The jawline that was now exposed looked human. The lips so full. The nose—

Your hand reacted before you consciously decided to smack him for smelling you. He reeled back and stroked the reddening flesh. The mask was replaced then he spoke again. “A delicacy.”

The dark faerie made a gesture in the air with his hand and you felt something invisible tighten around your ankles. It locked your limbs into place and sent your heart racing. Your wrists slammed together in front of you. They were held out as though of their own accord so that you looked to be pleading with the faerie for your life. Still not a scream emerged from your lips. There was a chance that this was what he waited for. He climbed onto the bed with you. His knees on either side of your hips and his hands encircling your throat. The pressure he exerted was minimal, yet you felt it on your windpipe all the same. It threatened to choke out a scream of terror that you could feel bubbling up.

“When are you going to kill me?” you asked, hating how the creature was toying with you. “Steal my soul for _Snoke._ ”

He tilted his head to the side. The dark visor that you had previously mistaken as being his eyes remained pointed at your face. He relinquished his hold, both the physical and magical, and moved backwards off the bed. Not, however, before he tucked his mask into your neck and took another loud inhalation of your scent.

You pulled your hair over your shoulders, covering your neck. At that, the faerie seemed to grow; he stood straighter, drawing up to his full height. A twitch of wings rustled the cowl he wore. You started to stare at those wings. Another, albeit newer, tale sprang to mind.

_Bound now to the demon king;_

_The faerie prince with black wing._

_Fallen from the name of Ben,_

_Now Master of the Knights of Ren._

_He serves to Snoke your stolen soul,_

_Until once more the realm is whole._

You told yourself that it was foolish nonsense—there was no way a prince would be in your room! There were far more important people, more delicious souls out there, weren’t there? Yet the more time dragged on without him making another move to hurt you, the more you had to wonder if that assumption was wrong. You replayed all the words he had spoken in your head. Your smell. Delicacy. This prince would rip your soul from your body and feed it to the demon. You wrapped your arms around your torso and shuddered at the thought.

“Don’t be afraid.” A funny thing for this creature to say. You narrowed your eyes and glared at him. “You grew without parents to comfort you. Abandoned as a child.”

_How does he know that?_ It terrified you that he did. You scooted backwards towards the wall. The faerie followed you, his knees on the bed then his hands on either side of your hips. The helmet in your face. You stared at your reflection. You were putting on a brave face, and doing a damn good job of it in your opinion.

There was a shout from the room above that broke through the silence that had wrapped around you. A shrill cry of _Nursemaid_. A subsequent sniffle and quietude. One of the younger children was having a nightmare. You bit down on your bottom lip. Looked up at the ceiling, the urge to comfort the child there. Not that you would have left the bed even if this faerie was not there. It would not be safe again to touch one’s feet to the ground until ten thirty. Ninety minutes wherein the threat of death was ever present.

The white material of your gown clashed with the black of his robes. The faerie’s wings twitched again, opening partway only to refold before you were allowed to see their full beauty.

“I don’t want to kill you.” His words had your lips parting in a silent gasp. If this was an attempt to get you to beg, you would not give in.

The search for a weapon began anew. You had started to move towards the end of the bed when the dark faerie surged forward. His hands pinned you by the shoulders against the mattress. You kicked, thrashing underneath him and not caring if your nightgown tore. At the same time, you worked to keep as quiet as you could to prevent any of the children from hearing your struggles. The last thing you wanted was for their souls to be forfeit. Clenching your teeth, you started to twist around to better free your hand. This allowed you to slam its palm into the front of the mask.

“If you leave me no choice then I will.”

His words infuriated you. The flame of anger that was already licking its way through every fiber of your being gave off sparks. You glared at him with disgust. The dark creature reached his right arm across his chest, fingers plucking at his wing. There was a shimmer, which grew brighter when he flung the dust from his wings at your face. Your world went black as you lost consciousness.


	2. Chapter 2

** The Shackles of Fate **

_Two_

It smelled of damp soil in the place that you awoke. Your eyelids fluttered open and you discovered that there was an extreme lack of light. Darkness pervaded the area—was it a room? Normally when you were in bed there were traces of shadows that played along the walls. There was none of that where you now were. You inhaled deeply and worked to rely on your other senses in order to ascertain your current location. It occurred to you that this could well be limbo. Purgatory. The pit of Snoke’s stomach after he had consumed your soul. There were countless phrases and terms that would equate to the same thing. If not for the feel of moss under your fingertips, you would have truly believed that you had met death for your failure to make curfew. You sniffed the air once more, however, to reaffirm that there was a distinct lack of a gastric aroma.

One unfortunate fact of your childhood was that, as the dark faerie had stated, you had had no parents to comfort you. They had abandoned you as an infant, leaving you behind to be raised in the orphanage owned by the Plutt family. That was where you had met and befriended Rey. She had been there only a little while longer than you had. Never once did she give up on the possibility that her family would return for her. You, on the other hand, had escaped into the faerie tales and rejected the possibility that your parents had loved you. It hurt you more to think that they had wanted you only to leave you there.

Of the many household chores that you had been assigned, it was cleaning the toilets that had forever instilled the memory of regurgitated stale beer. You had done all that you could to ensure that the outlook you had on life remained overall positive. That was the very reason you had embraced and adored tales of faeries in your youth. Your becoming a nursemaid had been due to your growing desire to bring laughter into the lives of children as a means of preventing them from experiencing a similar childhood to yours and Rey’s.

Present circumstances did not dissuade you from believing that you had chosen the correct path for your life. The governess that you worked alongside, a woman by the name of Rose Tico, had quickly become a dear friend; and she, too, believed that you had a gift for working with the younger children in the household. Though Rose was only twenty-two years of age, her word held much weight in your opinion. She had always been wise in repeating the rules regarding surviving Snoke’s power. If you had given more heed to them, such as the _at morning ensure the clock is not broken_ portion, you might not have wound up there.

Where _there_ happened to be.

In darkness where not even the white material of your nightgown could be seen, that was where you were. You touched your hands to the clothing. You could not help but wonder how filthy it was. When you returned home—you firmly believed that you _would_ be returning; you were willing to fight tooth and nail to do so—you would invest in a nightgown that was a darker shade. The current one would undoubtedly need to be tossed out. Allowing yourself to think of these mundane plans helped you to keep a level head. You had since risen to your feet and had started to tiptoe through the darkness. One hand outstretched in front of you, wiggling your toes between each step in search of anything that might bring harm.

You froze when light broke through the darkness. You squinted and shielded your eyes. A silhouette emerged, obscuring a generous amount of that brightness. You gave a quick sweep of the room to survey your surroundings in case you were again sealed inside. A shout for help lodged in your throat. You did not know if you could trust the individual. Were they yet another prisoner of the faerie? One of the guards?

Perhaps, despite his words, the faerie prince _did_ intend on carrying out his duty of ripping your soul from your body. Not wanting to do something did not always equate to refraining from committing oneself to the dreadful task. Much as it had been in your room, there were no weapons that you could use to defend yourself. Except, of course, your fists. Your childhood had resulted in you knowing basic defensive maneuvers as well as how to properly throw a punch to break someone’s nose. Rey had also instructed you on other techniques that she had picked up during her travels.

“I can deliver you no harm. You are his guest.” _Guest_ was certainly not the term you would have used. You clenched your teeth in order to bite back any retort you had for the female speaker.

All the same, you stepped nearer to the light when the other being shifted towards the left in a gesture of welcoming. You repeatedly blinked as your eyes struggled to fully adjust to the brightness. Something touched your shoulder, prompting you to jump. You spun around, your hands lifting to touch the material that had been placed on you. Relaxing, you tucked your arms into the sleeves of the travel shawl. You were grateful to have an added layer to your attire given that the wetness from the moss was causing portions of your nightgown to become rather transparent.

The faerie standing in front of you was dressed in earthly colors. Her wings were different than those of the dark creature that had entered your bedroom. These were a translucent pink. The faerie’s face was obscured by a mask and every bit of her flesh was hidden by her clothing.

“Should you find yourself in need of nutrition, provisions will be provided.” The faerie offered a brief bow of her head then walked around you, leaving you to your own devices.

You knit your brow in confusion. You twisted at your waist one way then the other, searching your surroundings once more. There were wooden shelves that held filled bottles and glass jars. Curled up in a corner underneath those shelves and observing you was a small feline. Its tail reminded you of a lizard, as did the tongue that flicked out from its mouth. The sound that emerged from it was a coo.

Upon closer inspection of the jars and bottles, you discovered the contents were things that made your stomach turn. You fought off the urge to gag upon noticing the pinkish organs that you strongly believed were human. One of the jars held coagulated blood and another ashes. Recoiling from the collection, you were relieved to find that the feline did not move to follow you when you walked in the direction of a different door than the one the faerie had exited.

Lanterns lit your path in the garden that the door opened to. You looked back over your shoulder, wondering what the hut you had just left was normally used for. It had not been a prison cell as you had started to fear. The stench of damp soil gave way to the various perfumes offered by the flowers in the garden. They mixed together to produce a calming aroma. You had never seen such plants in your life, although they did bear a certain resemblance to some of the illustrations in picture books.

The lanterns did not illuminate your path near as much as you would have preferred. They were spaced apart enough where shadows played on the ground and the darkness threatened to drown you every few inches. One bush of the bushes that was easily visible had berries you could have plucked off and eaten if you had wanted to.

You knew better than to allow anything too close to your mouth. Stories had long told of humans becoming trapped as servants to the fae when they ate or drank from this realm. Governess Tico did not neglect her duty to keep the entire household, including the staff, informed of these precautions and rules. The children that you looked after knew more about imps than faeries; those more malevolent creatures specialized in stealing children away to serve in the demon king’s army. Their souls were kept in a constant state of agony until they had worn out their use, at which point the imp would officially harvest the soul for Snoke’s meal.

You considered yourself lucky that you had been met with a faerie instead of an imp. You did have a strong dislike of faerie dust though, or at least when it was used to assist in your abduction.

_Guest my ass_ , you thought, your lips puckering forward in a sour expression.

You drew the gray travel shawl more tightly around your body. In the distance you could hear voices and the occasional laughter, some of it dry and humorless. You ignored those sounds. You used the lanterns as a guide; they carried you deeper into the garden and farther away from the voices. With any luck, you would find a portal to take you back to your realm.

“You’ll be disappointed—the portal will not open for you.” The yelp that left you had your cheeks growing hot with blush. You recognized the voice and turned to its owner.

An absence of his helmet had not been what you had expected to find. Your eyes darted about the features of his face, which were far different than you had believed they would be. Despite having seen his jawline while he had been on your bed with you, you had not expected the rest of his countenance to also look human. His brown eyes had an intensity to them. You could not decide if you would refer to them as fierce or deep. They drew you in rather than repelled you. Because of this, you chose to think of them with the latter term. His hair was longer than you had seen on men where you lived. Your fingers twitched at the thought that those locks could very well be as soft as they appeared. The light curls looked much like feathers to you.

“You’ve been watching me,” you said, your tone less accusatory than the situation might have warranted. His jaw twitched. You watched his lips begin to purse only to settle back into their former frown of indifference. When he failed to reply verbally, you tried once more. “I hadn’t thought that your eyes were made for a darker world.” Instantly you felt a sense of regret over your poor word choice; faeries had not always been denizens of darkness.

His wings stretched out an inch to either side. They folded in a similar manner to a bat’s, although their texture brought to mind a moth. “The helmet?” His natural voice caused you to relax. You nodded a single time in response to his inquiry. “There are obstacles that exist between realms.” The way he spoke had changed, his tone adapting a sardonic quality. It was akin to the moments you found yourself explaining the most basic of rules to the younger children for the umpteenth time. You wondered how old this faerie prince was. That information had not been readily available in any of the tales that you had heard.

You digested the minute amount of information he had willingly provided. First, there _was_ a portal, likely nearby given that he had felt a need to comment on it. Second, as he had stated, it would not open for you. Faerie magics were strong and it had been such forces that had once held Snoke back from your realm. You were not arrogant enough to believe that you could break them.

“Why did you bring me here?” you asked, your level of impatience winning.

When he spoke, it was not to answer your question, but to pose another. “You truly don’t know what you are, do you?” You, having glanced in the direction of the voices of the other faeries, laid your eyes on the faerie prince. His lips were curled at the corners in amusement, his eyes pinching. It was clear that he was holding in his laughter, though a breathy exhalation from his nose managed to break through. You waited for him to tease you while revealing whatever it was he believed he was going on about. You were left disappointed.

With a huff, you decided to change tactics. “Why did you put me in that hut?”

“To carry you over _my_ threshold would have ramifications I doubt you would be prepared for.” He had worded his reply well. Your eyes widened. The prince’s smirk appeared once more and he turned his back to you. Each time he spoke, your gaze had lowered to his mouth. His canine teeth were more pointed than a human’s, although you would not refer to them as fangs since that brought to mind a vampire. You were beginning to believe that, in his own way, he _had_ been merciful. When he had stated that he did not wish to kill you, he had meant it and acted in a way to prevent your death.

_If things were as simple as that, he would be able to break free from the demon king. There has to be more._

You ran the fingers of your right hand through your hair, tucking some back behind your ear. The faerie tilted back his head. You could hear him sniff the air. Shoulders rising, you took a step in retreat. You were at a loss how to handle this behavior. The obvious statement of _it’s not human_ would have made you roll your eyes; understanding this, though, did little to help you from feeling self-conscious.

The faerie twisted around, closing the distance between the two of you before you had a chance to react. His wings extended their full length. You turned your head to the left so that you could take in their full size and design. You had barely enough time to react to them closing again, this time wrapping around your body and pulling you against their owner. You braced your forearms against his chest, looked up at him, and glared. You would have verbally protested his actions had he not spoken first, informing you that he was masking your scent with his own. After the female faerie had referred to you as a guest, you had dismissed the idea that others in this realm might be interested in targeting you.

Your soul, according to the treaty signed by those who summoned the demon king into the human realm, belonged to Snoke as an offering. It had never been known for certain how it was that the faeries, imps and demons were able to sense who had failed to meet curfew. It was not as though those marked lived long enough to learn this secret.

A breeze rustled the leaves in the trees and bushes. The faerie’s wings shifted off of you to once more wrap around only their owner’s body. You looked down at your clothes and found that dust coated the material. The same dust that had previously knocked you unconscious. It seemed to have more than one use. You pinched the front of the travel shawl, rubbed your fingers together through the material, and inspected the digits. None of the dust had clung to your flesh.

“It will soon be morning.”

You looked up from your fingers and met the faerie’s gaze. “You will take me back to my home—I haven’t eaten anything.” His shoulders shook in silent laughter, one of his gloved hands concealing the lower half of his face. “I…” You released a strangled noise, temporarily at a loss for words. Recovering, you tried again. “I refuse to remain your prisoner!”

He lowered the limb from his face in unison with stepping around you. The faerie circled you, his eyes in constant motion. You tugged at the hem of the shawl’s sleeves. Did wearing their clothing seal your fate? The tip of his tongue peeked out from between his lips. The faerie took a step towards you and you took one back. He repeated his actions, you yours until you felt the hard surface of a tree trunk against your back, blocking you from going any further. His hands cupped you through your nightgown. You grabbed at his wrists, your eyes wide and glued to his face. He was meeting your gaze. “Don’t fight it.” He bent two fingers at the knuckles. Straightened them and bent them again. Short, slow strokes. He teased you through the thin layer of clothing that you wore.

You trembled at his touch and averted your gaze. You knew that you had not outright rejected him. What if you did? The words refused to form on your tongue as the warmth of pleasure blossomed in your stomach and pooled lower. Your panties were becoming damp. The faerie prince prodded at you, his gentle strokes coming to an end.

“Have you ever touched yourself?” he asked. You bit down on the insides of your cheeks to keep from answering. “Some go to bed early to do so.” Teasing you, reminding you of your failure. You shrunk in on yourself then straightened as his fingers resumed petting you. “I cannot take their souls.” An admission that he played the role of voyeur. He applied more pressure, managing to work open your outer lips. He fucked his fingers into them. Your wet panties were now making the front of your nightgown wet. “I can smell you like this. You like it.”

A part of you wondered why he was doing it given his prior actions, that he had worked to mask your scent.

“You said you ate nothing?” You nodded. The smirk on his lips was a filthy promise that he sunk to his knees to deliver. “I will.” Once more you were stunned to silence. Your eyes wide, you watched as the faerie prince lifted the front of your nightgown and pulled it over his head. The fingers that had been stroking you now hooked into your panties, tugging them out of his way. His warm breath crept over you. You buried your face in your hands as your body reacted. The wetness between your legs trailed down your thighs and had undoubtedly dribbled onto his face.

Your mind conjured up the memory of that pink tongue between his lips as you felt it dance along your folds. The faerie prince sunk the tips of his fingers into your thighs, working them open, and flattened his tongue against you. You felt it undulate then curl. He pulled all that he could into his mouth, noisily slurping and groaning. If it hadn’t been for the tree, you would have collapsed. Your hands dropped away from your face and you held the back of his head through your nightgown. Tilting back your head, you closed your eyes and rocked against his mouth. The grip he had on your left thigh lessened. He hooked that leg over his shoulder then plunged his tongue into you. You gasped at the intrusion, at the way he felt inside of you. Your hands tugged at him in a futile effort to get him closer. He opened his mouth around you then slowly closed his lips, dragging them along your folds while his tongue again swirled, this time on your clit.

He repeated the act, only this time he flattened his tongue and dragged it up. Moved it in reverse so that the underside gathered more of you. Another lick from that devilish tongue. He started to draw lazy designs that may have been words. As he delivered a final stroke down with the very tip, you were brought over the edge. The world around you seemed to disappear, all sounds drowned out by the pulse in your ears. His hand was on your stomach to keep you from pitching forward. His mouth still on you, tongue greedily lapping up all that he could.

Once he was satisfied, the faerie prince withdrew from your nightgown, your panties shifting back into place. You wiggled to help them. All the while you worked to catch your breath and tried to remember why you had allowed this stranger to touch you. Not that it hadn’t felt good. He wiped his mouth on the back of his hand.

“The portal will open and I will return you to your home—until night again comes. Your soul is marked. If you wish to keep it, you will not attempt to escape my protection. The imps can smell humans best of all. I will ensure your scent is masked.” He gestured in a wide arc to the many bushes in the garden. “In here you shall play while I serve the demon king.”

 _While you murder and ripe out the souls of others,_ you thought bitterly. Reality hit you hard and you felt physically ill. No matter how merciful appeared and alluring this creature was, he nevertheless was a murderer. A monster, twisted from whatever former beauty he may have been. You pressed your legs closer together and mentally berated yourself for giving into desire.

Turning, you toyed with the flower nearest to you. It was a red blossom with yellow streaks on its petals. You bent down, smelling its sweet scent, which reminded you of a hard candy that had always been your favorite. You lowered yourself onto your knees then sat on your legs. Your hands were in your lap and your eyes did not leave the flower. Resigned to your fate, until you could find a loophole, you asked for the faerie’s name. It came as no surprise that he failed to answer.

“What should I call you?” he asked. You rubbed your thumb along your leg, swiping it back and forth. Four seconds elapsed before you decided to humor the faerie prince by giving your name.

For this you earned nothing more than a grunt of acknowledgment. You rose to your feet and faced the faerie. “Are you...Ben?”

The dark winged creature flinched, drawing back from you as though you had given a great insult. “He was weak and now slumbers.” It was not exactly a _no_ , not in your opinion. “Kylo.” He held out his hand to you. “I will take you home.”

That voice, those words, echoed in your head as you opened your eyes to find yourself staring up at the ceiling of your room. Had any of that truly occurred? Heat exploded across your face at the memory of that tongue. A dream? You touched your shoulders. There was no travel shawl. You sat up enough to push aside your blankets and examine your nightgown. It was clean, perfectly so. Your eyes shifted to the clock on the bedside dresser. It ticked, properly counting each second that passed. You started to convince yourself that it had all been a dream. Which would explain the ease with which the faerie had seduced you. Laying your head back on your pillow, however, you saw something in the corner of your eye.

You shifted on the bed, turning onto your side and staring at the small object that looked to you like a cocoon. Its design was familiar. They were… Your lips parted in a silent gasp. Kylo’s wings had the same pattern, but this was so _tiny_. You gently touched the tip of your index finger to the cocoon. It opened, one wing sliding down to reveal the face of a slumbering young man. He was nearly identical to Kylo, although his features were softer. More peaceful. Instead of the dark robes that Kylo had worn, this faerie was adorned in white with golden designs. He was curled with his head nestled on his crossed arms and his legs drawn towards his stomach. You carefully nudged the wing aside to see the remainder of his body.

If he were to stand his full height, he would have been just a little larger than your middle finger.

You spoke softly to the small faerie, urging him to wake up. He did not stir. You bit down on your bottom lip. If you were to leave him, there was a chance that one of the cats would enter the room and eat him.

 _Now slumbers_ , you thought with an outward groan. You had not even considered that the curse placed on the faerie prince by Snoke ran more deeply than being trapped in servitude. By night his slave, by day…

“I hope you don’t mind living in a pocket,” you muttered, rising from the bed and grabbing fresh clothes. You could already hear movement from the upper floors. The children were waking and within the hour you would once more be _Nursemaid_. Your predicament would have to wait until lunch hour, at which point you would be allowed to confer with Governess Tico.


	3. Chapter 3

**The Shackles of Fate**

_ Three _

The tiny faerie did not stir even as you readied yourself to greet the day. Feet pattered on the floor above your room. You recognize those footsteps; they belonged to he four-year old twins Tara and Tolan. Every morning, without fail, they searched for the cats. You lifted the slumbering Ben by slipping your hand gently underneath him and drawing him off the pillow. You tucked him into the pocket of the apron that you were wearing. It had been some time since you had last used the apron. The children had taken a liking to rubbing their dirty hands on it, yet they never touched your dresses or skirts. You tucked your feet into the slip-ons and exited your bedroom in time to watch the twins scamper down the stairs after the calico, which rounded a corner and disappeared from view.

Most households had cats, as they were rumored to guard against beings from the demon realms. That was one of the reasons that you had hardly been surprised to see the feline in the realm of the fae, although it did help you to know which of the many tales told by humans was true. If faeries liked cats then it meant they were not of the same realm as imps and demons. Their realm truly was a mirror of the human realm.

In those tales, it had been said that once upon a time the fae and human had been joined in a single realm until faeries used their magic to split apart. This had been to prevent the demon king Snoke, whose powers had grown, from consuming the souls of humans. It was written that Snoke required magic to enter a realm and the human realm had been without it. Since their realm was only half as large as it had been before, faeries were able to use their magics to create a seal that prevented Snoke from taking over their own land. The seal in the human world was strongest at day and weakest at night; the seal in the faerie realm was weakest at day and strongest at night.

“Tolan,” you said, earning his attention. “Tara.” The little girl stopped chasing after the cat. They were easily dissuaded from causing too much mischief, in part due to the sense of fondness that they had developed for their nursemaid. The older children were from your employer’s first marriage; their mother had divorced their father for reasons you did not know and never pressed to learn. As for the younger children, including Tolan and Tara, their mother had died during childbirth the year before. You had mourned the woman’s death as though you had lost your own mother. The woman had always been warm towards you, especially after she had learned that you had been raised by the Plutts.

Gesturing for the twins to follow you back up the stairs and to the bedroom where their younger sibling waited in his crib, you gave the pair a smile and offered a quick  _ good morning _ that they returned. Tolan and Tara called you  _ Miss _ , their attempts to pronounce  _ nursemaid _ mocked by their older siblings. That was typical of children, you thought with a smile. The twins raced up the stairs past you and this time you allowed them to run. Your hand clutched the front of the pocket wherein the slumbering faerie remained. You did not want him injured by any carelessness on your part.

You mounted the stairs one at a time. You could hear Tara and Tolan opening then closing drawers, which meant they were picking out their clothes for the day. You wondered if you would be required to suggest changes or if they would select the proper attire. It varied from day to day. If you had more of a choice, you would have encouraged the creativity in allowing the children to select less formal clothing during the weekdays. Alas, you did see the benefits of preparing them for the following year when they began classes with the governess. Public school was out of the question for the children in this family as well as others of the higher class. Children of the wealthy were sometimes held for ransom and during other occasions, where a true sadist showed their face, a child was kidnapped to purposely be handed over to the imps and Snoke. That thought made you physically ill. You forced your mind to leave such things, your focus again returning to your duties.

You arrived in the doorway to find that Tolan and Tara were having a whispered argument as to which of them would bathe first. It was a fruitless endeavor given the fact that both had bathed the previous night and would not be placed into the tub—unless there was an unfortunate mess—until shortly before dinner. “Just dress, you two,” you said, earning a  _ yes, miss _ that brought a smile to your face.

Inside the crib, the youngest member of the family, Daen, squirmed and fussed. He needed a changing; that you were able to tell from the moment you had entered the room. You felt guilty for having been away from him the entire night. Thoughts that this would be repeated tugged at your heart. You swallowed down the emotions that began to build, deciding that you would set them aside for another time, just as you had been doing ever since Kylo had appeared in your bedroom the previous night. That was one thing that you prided yourself on, your ability to compartmentalize duties, emotion and logic. Right then your duty was to the children and that had always come first ever since you had been hired as their nursemaid.

You pulled Daen out of his crib and carried him to the changing table. He cooed at you and you spoke to him, your voice carrying to the twins as they took turns in the bathroom to dress. You recited one of the nursery rhymes that had been taught to you by the children’s mother. Daen squirmed in delight the entire time you spoke.

“Now, let’s all of us go have some breakfast, shall we?” you said when all three were dressed for the day. The twins were only too happy to oblige. They raced again ahead of you, which meant that they saw their cousin entering the house first. His dark hair was set in loose waves and his dark eyes had a kindness to them that never failed to draw you in. “Poe.” You cleared your throat. “Sir Dameron—”

“Poe’s fine,” he said, not for the first time. “I’m going to steal these two for the day. Have they had breakfast yet?”

“Nope!” Tolan announced in unison with Tara saying, “Nuh-uh!” Their cousin lifted both of them, one in either of his arms, and informed you of his intention to take them out to eat. His uncle had made it clear that Poe was allowed to visit with his cousins, which meant that you had no room to protest. Not that you would have wanted to. The idea of being so loved by one’s own family had always been appealing to you. On top of that, having only Daen to worry about would give you more time to speak with Governess Tico. Furthermore, until you learned more of how to keep the small faerie safe, having the two four year olds out of the house would lessen the chances of his becoming injured.

You tended to your duties after Poe left with the twins. Daen still needed to be fed and entertained. Only when mid-morning arrived and Daen was ready for his first nap did you walk in the direction where Governess Tico would be speaking with the older children of the house about the demon king. While they had learned the basics, an updated version of the text had been approved and distributed the previous month. Rose had told you of the new findings in regards to why it was Snoke had not entered the human realm sooner. You wondered how the children were reacting. You carried Daen into the room and sat in the back. The teenagers spared you a quick look, however were plenty disciplined when it came to their studies. They returned their attention to their governess, who was wrapping up the new section.

A hand shot up into the air, and the teenager who spoke, Priscilla, voiced the question that had been on your mind when she had first listened to Rose speak of the updated text. “If he needed magic to come into the human realm, how did Snoke come here?”

Governess Tico touched the top of her finger with the piece of chalk she had previously been using. She set down the object and told her class of four to turn to chapter eight of their texts. You rocked the baby, and Daen drifted off to sleep despite the discussion occuring in the room. You were amazed, as always, how much Rose had memorized. The twenty-two year old did not need to open a book of her own. She instead began to speak from memory what her students silently read. You closed her eyes and allowed that voice to paint a picture that helped to explain the predicament you were in and the tiny faerie in your pocket.

Above the realms of the humans and fae existed another, and those beings were of pure light magic; the exact opposite of the demons and imps of the realms below. Curiosity in regards to the land without magic brought them down. This would not have had a lasting consequence, except they sometimes joined with humans to produce a child of mixed descent. If these children were rejected by those of the upper realm, they were left with their human parent. Over time this increased the trickles of magic that existed in the human realm, which thus weakened the seals the faeries created to keep out the demon king. There had been plenty of instances where half-bloods used their magic to summon imps or lesser demons. Those had been written off as faerie tales by some humans, though others knew their truth. One particular group of half-bloods, roughly ten years ago, had succeeded in summoning the demon king himself on their quest to obtain greater magic. They signed a treaty with him, selling the souls of any human that remained out of bed during the witching hour.

What the half-bloods had not known was that, prior to being summoned, Snoke had been slowly seducing the faerie prince towards dark magic. Each time the seal weakened between the fae realm and that of the demon realm, he would whisper to the prince. Ben had always been curious to learn more of the human realm, which was forbidden to him by his parents—they would not chance greater magic being present long enough for Snoke to enter. On the night that the treaty was made, Snoke again lured the faerie prince to him and tricked Ben into making a blood vow that would allow him to see the human world without using his light magic. The faerie prince had not known of the treaty and had not realized he was agreeing to his light magic being stripped away. Nor had he known that he had cursed himself and the faeries that were bound to him into servitude, doing Snoke’s bidding  _ when absent is the light _ .

The same girl raised her hand, and Rose nodded for her to ask another question. You glanced down at the baby in your arms. He sighed heavily and nuzzled you as he slept.

“How did we learn all of this?” Priscilla asked. You shuddered at the memory the question brought. Governess Tico held her breath, no doubt equally uneasy at what she had gone through.

The governess entwined her fingers, bowed her head for a breath, and addressed her class once more. “You were all too young to remember. That first night… No one knew of the treaty. It was the greatest soul harvest to have ever occured. Imps and demons, and those faeries that were enslaved, came through the portals. The creatures of the upper realm that had children descended, and they were the ones to give us the tale. They knew that if Snoke were to ever fully rule the human realm, he would not stop there. They would be next.” Another hand shot up, this time from a boy, Makus. He asked what was on everyone’s mind: why didn’t those of the upper realm try to help the humans or faeries break the treaty and blood vow? “It depends on which version you want to listen to. The most widely accepted account is that to do so would go against the gift of free will that had been given to humans.”

Though you had every desire to sit there for the remainder of the lesson, you became aware that Daen stirred on each occasion that his older sister spoke. You quietly excused yourself from the room and carried the baby up to his crib. Rather than return to the classroom, you stole away into your room. The faerie had not stirred. You set his sleeping form on top of your pillow.

_ It’s a good thing Poe showed up today, _ you thought, chewing on your bottom lip while using the tip of your finger to draw aside the faerie’s wing. His hand at last moved, although his eyes did not open. You felt your heart flutter in your chest as he placed his hand on you. “Hopefully Daen will sleep longer today. I need time to speak with Rose...away from the children. Perhaps if I show you to her, she’ll know how to get me...us...out of this mess.” 

You squeezed your eyes closed, shaking your head and once more willing away the emotions that threatened to rise.

_ I’ve been through worse. _ You considered your childhood; it was not as though the Plutt family had been delicate with you. You had faced an assortment of near-death experiences even before Snoke had found his way to the human realm. The difference now, though, was that you had the children to think of. The children and...this small faerie.  _ You’re so small. _ Your eyes were soft as you watched him sleep. He had not removed his hand from your finger. When he did move, it was his wing wrapping around the digit.

“If you make me return with you, I won’t be here to protect the children. I want to make sure they never forget the rules. A single moment is all it takes…”

With a sigh, you returned the tiny faerie to the pocket on your apron. You could hear Priscilla and Makus talking with Wilk. The three siblings often ventured out into the garden when Governess Tico announced a break. She would either be drinking coffee or tea depending on mood.  _ It’s now or never _ . 

When you entered the study, Governess Tico was cupping her mug of coffee in both hands as she blew on the trailing steam. You, holding back when it came to the details of your own encounter with the faeries, asked if the other woman wouldn’t mind discussing a handful of questions that remained. You apologized if your inquiries had been answered during the lecture after you had left the room. Rose smiled and stated that she did not mind at all. It was sometimes easier to discuss such things with someone who had lived through that first night.

You knew that one of the areas you wished to learn more about was the blood vow that had been created between Snoke and Ben. The creation of Kylo did not entirely make sense to you now. Originally, even when you had been taken by him, you had believed that he was still wholly the same faerie he had been before. Given that there was now a tiny faerie in your pocket, you were doubtful this rang true. What was more pressing, too, was Kylo’s insistence that he bring you into the faerie realm at night.

“If the blood vow was created, how is it that Snoke hasn’t taken over the faerie realm? Did the beings from the upper realm stop that when they came that night? I don’t recall anything being said of it.”

“No,” Rose said, the  _ o _ drawn out. She sucked her lips into her mouth. It was one of her habits when she was trying to remember her own lessons in history. “There isn’t much on that. I did hear a story from one of my professors that made sense to me.” You nodded in encouragement. “The faerie queen arrived as the blood vow was created. She used most of her magic to cast a curse upon her son that sealed the last of his light in order to prevent Snoke from fully destroying it. Snoke had learned the name of Ben’s soul. Kylo. From what I know of faerie lore, the soul’s name is revealed only when a faerie marries since the soul is bound to their soulmate at that time. If it’s revealed before then, it is a chain that anchors them unless such a curse can be broken. The faerie queen sealing the remnants of light was to help prevent Snoke from owning his entire soul.”

It felt as though something cold had crawled into your chest and encapsulated your heart. You swayed in place, which caused Governess Tico’s eyebrows to draw towards one another.

“His mother? She was the one to change him into a tiny faerie?” 

The woman across from you at the table blinked. “A sprite?” You had heard the term from tales in your youth, however you had always believed it to be interchangeable with  _ faerie _ . Perhaps, you thought, you had been incorrect. “That could make sense. Sprites can only be seen by those with light magic. The demon king would not be able to find him.”

_ But that can’t be correct _ , you told yourself. You placed a hand over the pocket of your apron. Rose began to sip her coffee. You reached into the pocket, cradled the slumbering sprite, and drew him out. The governess’s interest was piqued when she noticed the manner in which you were holding your hand. You slowly extended your fingers. You kept your eyes glued to the other woman’s face to observe her reaction. A small frown, a noise of confusion. No shock, not a single hint of astonishment. Governess Rose was unable to see Ben.

_ Only those with light magic. _ The phrase repeated in your head. Next came Kylo’s voice.  _ You have that smell. A delicacy. You truly don’t know what you are, do you? _

You stared down at the sprite. Throughout this all, you had managed to keep your composure. The sights and sounds of the night from your childhood, that very first witching hour, had prepared you for meeting with adversity. Outside forces, that was a part of life. This was different. Everything that you had thought you knew about yourself… Was all of it a lie?

_ What am I? _


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the comments and kudos. They mean so much and are really encouraging!

**The Shackles of Fate**

_ Four _

There was a dull throb directly behind your eyes, the first signs that you were developing a headache due to all that had been occurring since the previous night. This final revelation had been the icing on the cake, so to speak. Being in possession of Light magic should not have been an elusive bit of information; had there been no signs? You started to think of your history, your childhood. The sprite rolled over in his sleep, his back facing you. Governess Tico lifted her coffee to her lips though the expression of confusion did not change. She was giving you time to think, and you were grateful that it was in her nature to be patient. There was also the chance that Rose was coming to the conclusion that there truly was a sprite in her presence, or on the opposite side of that spectrum, that you were losing your mind.

It brought to you a new question: even if Rose was unable to  _ see _ the sprite, did that mean she was incapable of  _ feeling _ him? You weighed your options in order to decide how to proceed. You locked gazes with the governess.

Rose lowered the cup of coffee and set down the beverage as she tilted her head to the side. The two of you had been working in the same household for a handful of years. Governess Tico had a knack for reading your moods, although she was not always an expert on the reasonings for those emotions. For this occasion, Rose had followed the conversation and went from there. She pointed a lone finger at the palm of your hand, precisely where the slumbering faerie was curled. You nodded a single time. Rose pressed forward, slowly shifting the digit nearer. You could feel your pulse quickening. Fear started to envelop you. You could not allow Ben to be injured. Yet you  _ had _ to know. Was that selfish?

“Be gentle,” you said, a little more loudly than you had intended. Rather than appearing annoyed or insulted, Rose offered a gentle  _ I will _ . There was no underlying ‘you’re crazy’ to her tone. You had both lived through the first witching hour and thus were equally aware just how easily seemingly fictitious stories proved themselves to be reality. Rose kept her eyes locked with your face, ever observant to your expression; it was because of this that some of your worry began to fade.

The moment that Governess Tico’s fingertip touched the moth-like wings of the faerie, she jerked her hand away and placed it instead over her mouth. You felt a jolt of elation. The other woman  _ could _ feel the faerie. That joy quickly dissipated; you would have to be all the more careful when it came to how you handled the sprite. Rose seemed focused on the fact that you had proven yourself capable of Light magic. She asked the question that had run through your mind not long before: what was she?

A second later, Rose continued with another question. “That’s the prince?” There was less skepticism than there was fear. Words began to spill from her so quickly that you were not quite able to follow. You did pick up a handful of terms, which informed you that the governess was swiftly recounting the tales of the faerie prince, his mother, and the demon king. At the mention of the imp king, you lifted your gaze from the sleeping sprite to again watch Rose.

According to what Rose had said, Armitage Hux was rumored to have succeeded his father, Brendol. The younger Hux had always been resentful of the faerie prince due to Snoke’s interest in Ben. Imps believed themselves to be superior to both demons and faeries, namely the latter. While Snoke would have difficulty entering the human realm during the day because of the seal, if so pressed or summoned an imp could complete that task. King Armitage Hux would not hesitate in targeting the entire household if he learned that the cursed prince was present. Rose trailed off, staring blindly at the sprite in your hand.

You had recognized the name of Brendol Hux. If memory served you correctly, that was the imp that, when summoned by rebellious teeangers, had tempted humans with more power. It was he who had paved the way for the demon king.

Governess Tico lowered herself back into the seat that she had previously occupied. “If that really is the faerie prince then the tales are true.” You did not say anything, although you hoped that Rose would elaborate. Rose once more set the tip of her finger lightly against the sprite that she was incapable of seeing. “Do you remember the stories of the faeries that were referred to as  _ walkers of the sky _ ?” The faerie hero of legend, one known by the name Skywalker, had been a favorite character of yours when you had believed faerie tales were no more than stories. It had been written that he was the one to guard the seals that prevented demons from harming children. “I never believed the tale from my studies. That the legendary hero had failed in his task to train Ben in the art of seals, and that when the blood vow was made and the faerie queen was forced to curse her son… It’s said that the faerie hero vanished after witnessing his nephew’s soul torn in two.”

You drew your hand closer to your body. You had nearly missed when realization dawned upon Rose, who uttered out the words  _ you missed curfew _ so quietly that one may have mistaken the sentence for a simple exhalation. A part of you did not want to believe in the tales of Skywalker, not if it meant accepting that he had abandoned the task of protecting the human and fae realms. You wanted to rewind time and erase the last decade. With every passing minute there were more questions than there were answers. Stories proving to hold truths, albeit only in fractions.

“The children won’t be safe here. Not with the prince, and not with a marked soul.” Rose was not being callous; you could hear the worry in your friend’s voice. You used the lull in the conversation to listen for Daen. There were no cries, not yet. You decided to utilize this time to tell Rose of your current predicament, and as you wrapped up your story, you asked if Rose would be opposed to ensuring the children were safe at night. “Of course! But you… you need to be careful. Do you remember the warnings?”

Governess Tico did not wait for you to reply, opting to recite the nursery rhyme that Tolan and Tara would learn the following year when they reached the age of five.

_ Though Skywalker’s seal protects the day, _

_ These are the threats to come our way: _

_ With demons and imps, they come at night; _

_ Beware those armored black and white. _

_ Of the prince, that darkened fae, _

_ Tempted by light yet cursed to stay. _

_ What once was whole, now in two; _

_ The faerie prince may spare you. _

_ Yet if from Snoke that prince does stray, _

_ These then shall take your soul away: _

_ The demon servants that all shall dread _

_ Are those in armor dyed blood red. _

As you listened, you came to realize that you had forgotten it was said that the faerie prince could choose to defy Snoke, although the specifics had never been revealed. Did this apply only to those who had Light magic? Another question: had he ever chosen to spare a life before yours? Eyeing the slumbering Ben, you began to doubt that he had previously been successful in protecting those he did not wish to kill.

“Those in red can only come at night, but the imps… If they have allies who discover your soul is marked, this entire household will be put in jeopardy.” Rose reached forward, this time setting her hand on your wrist. “I will read through the texts tonight after the children are asleep. You need to try to get answers from the fae, including  _ what _ you are.”

You silently wished that you had all of the stories memorized as your friend did. The issue with that came with the contradictions that existed among them. It had been reported by surviving family members that they helplessly watched their loved ones mistake fact and fiction then lose their souls. You had dutifully studied the stories that had been proven factual. Now you would have the advantage of speaking with the fae, both the prince and those who worked for him, when you were taken to their realm come the witching hour. There would be no such conversations for you with anyone in the human realm aside from Rose. Even there, you had to be careful. What Rose had said was correct; if someone learned that your soul was marked, it would serve to paint a larger target on the children.

You would have discussed the situation more with Rose, along with delving more into your mysterious origins, had Governess Tico not been on a set schedule with the older children. The teenagers would be returning, which meant that they would be in earshot. That was not a risk you were willing to take, and you doubted that it was one Rose wanted to take either.

Though there had been no cries from Daen, you decided to check on the infant after tucking Ben safely inside your pocket. You quietly entered the room, pushing open the door and peeking around before fully going inside. The light coos that came your way brought a smile to your face. You lifted him out of the crib, changed his diaper, and carried him down the stairs for a light lunch. Daen released a squeal of delight when you set the cut up banana pieces in front of him. He held the spoon in one hand, though he used the other to feed himself the fruit. You shook your head as you laughed. It had only been recently that Daen had taken to holding the utensil throughout his entire meal. You had noticed on more than a single occasion that he attempted to scoop up pieces. Given that they more often than not fell off the spoon before he could take a bite, Daen’s patience was easily used up.

When it came time for him to eat the protein portion of his meal, Daen was content with you assisting him in going through the motions of scooping up the pieces and bringing them to his mouth. So as to not allow Daen to become frustrated, you did not discourage him when he grabbed for bites with his other hand. He was less receptive to the small lessons and exercises when grumpy. Of course, that was typical for infants.

You lifted Daen into your arms as he held onto a sippy cup filled with milk when he had finished eating. It was time for him to have some fresh air. You grabbed the diaper bag that was prepared for these outings; inside were diapers, wipes, a handful of toys, and a blanket on which you would place him. Where Tara and Tolan loved the feeling of grass between their toes, their younger brother fussed at such contact. He did enjoy playing in sand and mud though, which amused the you.

You read to the baby as he played with stacking cups. Those were his favorite toys along with similar puzzles that were age appropriate. Only when you heard a familiar bark did you set aside the  _ ABC _ book illustrated with animals whose names began with each letter of the alphabet. BeeBee the Eighth, or BB-8 for short, loped into the yard. He chased after a ball that one of the twins had thrown. You were not certain which, as both Tara and Tolan were running after the dog. The canine’s owner was a short distance behind them. Poe flashed a grin while walking over to you.

“Good afternoon,” the man said, and you returned the greeting before inquiring on the children’s behavior. “They were little angels, of course.” You chuckled at the hint of playfulness. The twins adored their cousin. They behaved more for him than they did their own father, although according to their late mother, that was normal for children to do. “Tara is enamored with faerie tales.”

Poe lowered himself onto the ground beside you. You looked to the children as they played with the dog in the yard. “I try not to read those books to them. She enjoys looking at the pictures though.”

“Easier times,” the Dameron male intoned. He had lost his mother the night of the first witching hour. “So many deaths. So many renditions of what happened… She believes the story that the faerie hero abandoned his nephew when the prince was tempted by the demon king.” You winced before you could stop yourself. That specific tale was your least favorite version of what had happened that night. Poe waved his hand in the air. “The one I found interesting was where Skywalker battled the transformed prince after he became the Master of the Knights of Ren.”

You bit down on the insides of your cheeks. You were not particularly fond of that version either, namely due to its inclusion of Ben murdering his own father to create the blood vow.

“It’s a strange one, though,” Poe continued. “Skywalker escaping with the last of Ben’s Light while the faerie queen protected the fae not bound to Ben from becoming involved in the vow. Do you think that means Skywalker took Ben’s power?”

You shook your head as you uttered out that you did not know. A lie, one you felt a little guilty for telling. Your thoughts fell to the sprite in your pocket. Was he a separate entity from the dark faerie that had appeared before you? Had he been with the legendary Skywalker before that morning? Governess Tico was correct in saying that you needed to get some answers from Kylo. It was not a matter of saving only your own soul, but of protecting these children as well.

That train of thought reminded you that it would be best if you did not discuss faeries with anyone for the time being. There was the chance that you would allow something to slip. While you believed that Poe would not do anything to endanger his cousins, it was not worth the risk of  _ him _ accidentally revealing information. Things tended to spiral when it came to revealed secrets.

Poe Dameron left along with BB-8 shortly before dinner was scheduled to be served. From there, things ran their usual course with the exception of Governess Tico tucking the youngest three into bed after their older siblings had retired for the night. If there was one morbidly positive aspect of the witching hour, it was that crime rates had lowered amongst the teenage population. They had little desire to miss curfew, namely if they had witnessed the aftermath of doing so. You listened to Rose speaking with Tara and Tolan, who were requesting that  _ miss _ come up to ‘properly say goodnight’.

It was nice to feel wanted and loved, however you were more concerned with one or both of them leaving their beds during witching hour. That worry faded when you heard your friend inform the twins that she would remain in the children’s room until the witching hour had passed.

Your attention moved to other worries that you had temporarily pushed aside. Namely  _ what _ you may have been descended from. The beings of the upper realm had been a passing interest. They had, to you as a child, been too benevolent to be real. The fae in stories had possessed both light and dark qualities, something that had made sense to you given that you lived with the Plutt family. To imagine that there were beings from the upper realm that were pure Light magic who refused to help those in need? It was painful for you. More painful now that you were aware one of your parents had come from that realm.

You had pretended that your parents were important, that they had not chosen to abandon you. If what Rose said was true in regards to how magic had entered the human realm, it meant that at least one of them  _ had _ . They had not found you worthy enough to bring back to the upper realm.

You stared at the tiny faerie that you had placed on your pillow in the exact spot you had found him that morning. One of the answers you wanted was to know if Kylo and Ben were two separate entities now or if one transformed into the other. Another thing, you thought as a scowl formed on your face, was  _ why _ Kylo had seen it fit to knock you unconscious before taking you through the portal.

You gently stroked the tip of her finger along the top of Ben’s head, ruffling his hair. “You had better give me some answers.” Though phrased as a demand, your tone was one of pleading. On your nightstand, the clock that had failed you the previous evening ticked and tocked in working order. You glanced at it periodically to keep track of the time. At nine he would arrive, you told yourself.

Which is why you stifled a yelp of surprise at a quarter to the hour when a shadow moved in your peripheral. Your head whipped in the direction of the dark creature that rose from a crouch. Kylo was dressed in black robes as he had been the previous time, and his helmet blocked your view of his face. This was unfortunate, as you had hoped to utilize his facial expressions to offer you further information when you began asking the questions. The tiny faerie on your pillow did not fade, and thus arrived the first answer. The dark winged prince had literally had his soul torn into two when his mother had cursed him as a means of preserving that last of his light. Which, of course, meant that Kylo was not able to see the sprite.

“I...packed a bag,” you said whilst gesturing to the aforementioned item. The helmet shifted, its visor pointed in the direction you had indicated. You utilized this time wisely, tucking the slumbering sprite into the pocket of your trousers; you did not often wear the clothing, as many considered such attire to be unladylike. Aside from aiding you in maintaining possession of Ben, the trousers would be easier to explore in once you reached the realm of fae. “I have a few questions.”

“There is no time for that,” Kylo said in a bored tone.

“Because of those armored in red?” The visor promptly left the packed bag to land on your face. You rose to your feet as you spoke, reciting the lines from the warning Rose had repeated earlier. “The demon servants that all shall dread/ are those in armor dyed blood red.”

The dark faerie snorted in derision. “The upper realm is pretentious with their rhymes.” You felt your shoulders droop. You wanted to argue that the rhymes may have come from humans, however you were under the impression that this would hardly have made a difference in Kylo’s opinion. “The demon king’s praetorian guards —yes, they are the reason it would not be safe to leave you in a realm with a weaker seal.”

There was the obvious question of  _ why do you want me safe _ that existed on the tip of your tongue. You discarded it in favor of protesting being put to sleep when the faerie moved to gather dust from his wings. The leather-clad hand paused, and there emerged a strangled sound through the helmet’s vocoder. If not asleep, he informed you, then blinded in another way. You did not relish the fact that you were made to tie a thick cloth around your eyes. If you had not been growing more worried that your presence would endanger the children as witching hour approached, you may have argued. Blindfolded and clutching your bag in a manner that it did not press against the sprite in your pocket, you suffered the indignation of being lifted bridal style into Kylo’s arms even though you would have been able to walk just fine, thank you.

In hindsight, you should have expected that a being of darkness was capable of small deceits even to those he vowed to protect. You mentally swore when you regained consciousness. Your hand instantly went to the blindfold, which you tore from your face. Your teeth were clenched together. A moment later, your jaw relaxed as you noticed Kylo crouching mere inches away with his hand extended towards your face.

“Portals can be painful for those with human blood,” he said, his voice gentle. You were not certain if you completely believed him, however you were willing to be grateful if his deceit had been based on being merciful.

You sat up, searching your surroundings and discovering that you had been laid across a bench in the garden that you had visited the previous night. Your bag was on the ground beside one of the legs. Heart stuttering in your chest, you surreptitiously slipped a hand into the pocket that held the sprite. Your finger caressed Ben’s cheek, which in turn caused Kylo to pull away the hand that had been near you to touch the side of his helmet. The same cheek you had touched on the sprite.

_ They really are connected, _ you thought with a renewed sense of awe.

Kylo yanked his limb away from the helmet in unison with rising to his full height. “As I stated, you may play here while I fulfill my duties for the witching hour.” You opened your mouth to request that he wait. You tried to remember what questions would help you as well as Rose learn more of the situation. Before you could ask the first one, regarding  _ what _ you were, Kylo took a step backwards. “I will return in time for you to ask those questions. Know this: I may refuse to answer them.”

He was as vexing as you remembered him being. You started to shift your finger away from the slumbering sprite in order to withdraw your hand, however Ben rolled. From this new position you could feel a tiny hand touching your fingertip. Across from you, Kylo closed his hand into a fist before relaxing. The visor of his helmet pointed towards the ground. You waggled your finger gently to see if Ben would release it. He did not. Instead your actions served to brush along his chest. Kylo shuddered and took a step backwards in retreat. You idly wondered if he was ticklish. Debated whether or not he could sense that other half of his soul in your pocket. You meanwhile enjoyed the feeling of his warm touch on your finger.

What Kylo had done to you the previous night, the memories that had heat seeping not only into your cheeks but throughout the rest of your body as well, coiling in the pit of your stomach, those touches had been different. It had been carnal. Enjoyable, yet less personable. In your pocket, Ben once more changed position in his sleep. His hand fell away from your finger and his wing brushed along the digit prior to wrapping around him like a cocoon. You took your hand out of your pocket and took a step in Kylo’s direction. He had shuddered again, his wings visibly twitching.

“Will you answer just one question before you leave?”

“Yes.” He took a step backwards in retreat. You could  _ hear _ the smile on his lips when he had uttered that single response, and you instantly understood that he had counted that as the promised reply.

Your nostrils flared when you huffed in frustration. The chuckle that left the dark faerie made your stomach flutter. It was deep and rich. It made you hope that Poe Dameron was wrong, that the story that said Ben had killed his father as a part of becoming Kylo hadn’t happened. You again reached into your pocket while watching the Master of the Knights of Ren walk away. His wings twitched and he shuddered when you gently stroked the sprite. His light was not destroyed. Just as he, for reasons yet unknown, had vowed to protect you, you found that you had the strong urge to protect his light.

You had always done what you could to see the good in people despite unpleasant circumstances. Did that have anything to do with your parentage? Only once the dark faerie had completely left your line of sight did you withdraw the sprite from your pocket.

“Well, little faerie, let’s see what answers we can find in the meantime.” You pulled the strap of your bag over your shoulder then set off down the garden path.


	5. Chapter 5

** The Shackles of Fate **

_ Five _

The insistence from Kylo that you _play_ caused you to roll your eyes as you took those first steps through the garden. At the same time, you understood that he was older than you were and that faerie culture was likely to be different than human culture. At least to some extent. You had every intention of learning more of the social norms that existed within the fae realm. Doing so would aid you in convincing Kylo to offer some of the answers that you required. If only Ben could speak to you—sleeptalking would be a fantastic part of the curse if he could offer input on how you could help the both of you.

Not one to dwell on the negative, you allowed yourself a chance to sigh and then carried on. The lanterns lighting the path were just as dim as they had been the previous night, although they were purple in color rather than the typical yellow. You hummed in thought at this change. It did not inhibit your ability to see, and so you quickly dismissed it. You stepped off the paved path. That was another thing you had learned from your childhood with the Plutts and Rey: you had to make your own way if you hoped to survive.

An appetizing aroma wafted through the air. It caused your stomach to growl while also reminding you that you had had the forethought to pack a snack. One thing that you had yet to learn was whether or not eating food from the fae realm would render you trapped. You sat beside a bush with silk-like leaves. You placed the small faerie on the ground directly in front of yourself where you would be able to grab him up at a moment’s notice. Rummaging around in the bag, it took you a mere thirty seconds to locate the protein-laced chocolate bar. You worked open the wrapper, slid your gaze to the slumbering Ben, and wondered aloud if he required food. Not that you would know how to feed him.

_ Perhaps, since they’re connected, his body is sustained by whatever Kylo eats. _ You slipped the first bite of the chocolate bar into your mouth. A moan escaped you. Ben’s wings twitched at the sound, shifting away from his face. You held your breath, the chocolate melting on your tongue while you observed the sprite. He did not open his eyes. _He’s cursed. He isn’t going to bloody well wake up because I make some…_ You cleared your throat, heat rising into your cheeks. _Kylo better not retain any memory of what I say around Ben. Especially not after what we did together._

If you were to admit anything to yourself that others would claim was inappropriate for the situation, it would be that you found the dark faerie prince to be rather appealing in terms of looks. The memory of what the two of you had done together lingered, but you continuously shoved it aside. Your eyes roamed the countenance of Kylo’s lighter side. You could not imagine what had caused him to long for the human realm. Had you been born in this realm, you would have loved it. The smells, the sights, the _feel_. There was a palpable energy in this realm that you had never felt before. You tilted back your head to bask in that energy. You swallowed the bite of chocolate seconds prior to reopening your eyes. The stars above were different here than in your world. They glowed pink.

You did not take the time to savor the next two bites of chocolate. You reminded yourself that time was not on your side. The final bite, on the other hand, you allowed to melt on your tongue. You replaced the wrapper into your bag, albeit this time in one of the outer pockets. You slipped a hand underneath the sprite then rocked up onto your feet.

Your thumb skimmed along the soft wing, nudging it further away when a dash of red flickered. There one moment then gone the next, although it gave you the strong impression that you had seen _something_ wrapped around the faerie prince’s right arm. There was nothing there when the wing was moved.

Shaking your head, you leaned down long enough to retrieve your bag and then started to once more walk through the garden. Subdued laughter rang through the air in the direction you had selected. This was echoed by a feminine giggle. You promptly changed course, traveling in a more diagonal path from your starting point. The plan was to circumnavigate the area in order to see if the owners of those voices were fae you would wish to speak with.

“Mm. Ye smell real nice, girly,” a gruff voice said from behind. You felt your stomach drop. Memories of Unkar, drunk, surged forward. You shook your head, banishing them back into the corners of your mind. “Princely spice added to ye… ‘ave a poke, did he?”

Your stomach churned. You swallowed down the bile that had started to rise and turned around, cradling the sprite nearer to your body while also readying to put up a fight. The creature you faced was humanoid. Its mouth was filled with tiny fangs, its pupils slits. You spared only a quick glance down at its hands. Claws, just as you had expected. This was the sort of dark fae that you had also read about as a child. The one others had mistakenly referred to as imps. The creature’s eyes dropped to your hand and the sprite thereupon.

“What are ye holding, hmm?” He leaned closer. His fingers were in constant motion, wiggling and twitching. You held your breath. _He can’t see Ben._ You did not allow his grotesque appearance to intimidate you. The dark fae moved to grab at your wrist. You jumped backwards, ducking simultaneous to thrusting forward your free hand to snatch up the creature’s arm. You twisted it. The fae growled in pain and spat out what you believed could only be swears, which were quickly silenced when you brought your knee up into his gut. He crumpled to the ground.

Knowing that the fae would not be down for very long, you wasted no time in starting to run. You did not know what sorts of powers the creature possessed and had no desire to learn either.

“Ye can’t run far, girly! I smell ye. Princely spice with pomegranate.” There came a gurgle that forced a new sensation of revulsion to travel through you. “Sweet thing.” You could hear him smacking his lips as he lumbered forward, pursuing you.

Your ignorance in regards to what magics this creature could be capable of had you ducking around one of the trees whose trunk was twice your size in width. Even as you ran you searched for an object that could be used as a weapon. You could not very well call out for help given the chance that any fae that did arrive would side with the one chasing you. If you had known a clear path to the hut in which you had been placed the previous night, you would have aimed for that location. You recalled that the fae who had been inside had been much more hospitable.

_ I don’t see how I’m any safer here than home… _ Your thoughts trailed off as you remembered it was not your own safety you had worried over.

Despite the continued sounds of pursuit, you could not help but notice that there had been no, to your knowledge, attempts at magic from the fae. The creature had been easy enough to thwart that first time. You decided to take your chances by lowering your speed. There was no need to overexert yourself. If this creature was not capable of magics—the assumption that all fae had magic could very well prove incorrect—his plan could be to tire you out. Should the need to once more increase your speed arrive, you believed that you would be capable of deflecting him again before making a run for it.

Besides, you reasoned whilst cringing over another coo of _sweet thing_ , Kylo had admitted that he may not answer some of your inquiries. This fae?

“Pomegranate?” you called back. Your eyes landed on a decently sized branch that had fallen from a tree. It was heavy enough to hurt yet light enough to where you could easily wield it. You scooped up the branch, clasping it with both hands. “That’s rather specific, don’t you think?”

_ It is, it is _ came the cooed out response that preceded a whine of longing. That gave way to a sigh of despair, and the fae’s attempts at pursuing you came to a momentary pause. Having ducked around another tree trunk, you readjusted your hands on the branch simultaneous to peeking in the direction of the creature. It lumbered forward once more, although there was a marked difference in its pace. You could hear the fae muttering to himself. Several of the sentences were no more than unintelligible murmurs, whereas other portions you were able to hear in full. What caught your attention was the correlation between beings of the upper realm and the scent of pomegranate. You waited in the hopes that it was a more specific species of beings. Even if it was, your pursuer shook his head and dismissed that train of thought.

By that point, he had come closer, and you thrust your weapon of choice forward. You used a controlled stop to bring the very tip of the branch against the creature’s throat without injuring him. “I have questions for you, and I expect you to answer them.”

There was a pause on his part. His tongue flicked out of his mouth to wet his lips. “Can I have a taste?”

“No!” you said incredulously, an expression of revulsion overtaking your features. The dark fae looked rightly ashamed of itself. Any sense of hostility had faded away, the being becoming rather subdued. You thought of its previous behavior and found yourself wondering if its agitated state had had anything to do with the fallen prince. It _had_ been Ben/Kylo that had doomed it to this position. Empathy would not blind you, however; it rarely did. You maintained the position of the branch until the creature cowered and slumped to the ground, first putting several steps of distance between them. You were content that you would be swift enough to deflect a sudden attack, which allowed you to relax your stance so that you did not develop a cramp in the muscles of your arms.

A squeak sounded from the fae’s right. The creature shifted his arm in that direction, his fingers searching for something—what you had previously believed to be one of the fae realm’s flora skittered nearer. It was a rodent, you realized. Its tail had the appearance of a flower, stem and blossom, and its coloring had caused you to mistake the body for moss. As the rodent’s nose touched the tips of the fae’s fingers, he sniffled. You watched equally the tiny creature and the fae. It was in this moment that you finally noticed his tattered wings, or what was left of them.

Knowing that it was likely a sore and personal subject, you gently asked the being that had once pursued you what had happened. Its facial features contorted. The creature spat out the title of _prince_ as though it answered everything. In a way, it did, although not explicitly. You had already surmised that this creature was a victim of the blood vow that had been created between Snoke and Ben. Whether the fallen prince had torn the creature’s wings away with his own hands or not, it did not matter to the fae. For you, however, it _did_. You wished to know what possible dangers you faced. Though Kylo had expressed a disinterest in killing you, there were other means of causing one sorrow or pain.

The rodent climbed onto the fae’s hand and failed to flinch or tremble when it was brought nearer to the fae’s face. Tears brimmed in the fae’s eyes. “I taste only dust and ash. Ye smell so sweet. A memory.” A bitter laugh erupted from him, his lips pulling away from fangs. “Every death tears one apart. Save just one, the demon king knows.”

Yet more riddles for you to scramble to decipher. You puffed up your cheeks in exasperation, though held your tongue for fear of dissuading this fae from continuing to speak at all. He did not seem to be in his right mind at any rate. You licked your lips, wetting them whilst forming your next question. “Does… Can he take the light away from others?”

The rodent leapt from the fae’s hands, narrowly avoiding injury as the creature raked his fingers down his face. He left rivulets in their wake. “The prince sold us all. No light in this witching hour. Ye…. Pomegranate—the gates were closed that night. Ye should not be here.” Hooking three fingers into his mouth, he whimpered. “Just one taste of pure light?”

“What happens when the witching hour ends?” you asked. You found that your voice quivered, which had you inwardly cringing. You did not wish for your present company to change his tune again.

The fae’s eyelashes fluttered repeatedly. “For three hours we feel whole, the light returns.” Another sob preceded a fresh whine. “Then it tears away!”

You felt your breath hitch. Your mind wandered to the slumbering sprite. Was it possible that your assumption regarding Ben had been, in fact, partially correct? If you were understanding this creature correctly, all fae cursed to serve the demon king Snoke were essentially torn in two. Their souls halved, ripped from their bodies. Only to be temporarily returned. It had to be enough to drive anyone mad.

“Ye can see the soul, follow the trail, can’t ye, sweet thing?”

“I… I don’t know,” you answered honestly. The fact of the matter was that you did not fully understand the question. On top of that, you had yet to learn from what or who you were descended. What powers did you possess, if any at all? “What’s your name?”

He shook his head frantically, stating that names had power. The fae sprang to his feet, turned to leave, and then paused. Hunched over, he looked once more in your direction. You held the branch with one hand, grip to where you would be capable of maintaining your hold even if he attacked. You used the other to adjust the bag. You stroked a single finger along Ben, ensuring that he remained present. The sprite was there. With a nod, you took a tentative step forward. The fae began to walk, glancing back every handful of steps to ensure he was being followed.

There was a considerable distance between you. You would not be caught off guard. This was his playing field, not yours.

“Ye haven’t awoken, sweet thing,” it simpered. Splinters threatened to pierce flesh as your grip tightened. “Finn can help.”

“Is that your name?” He released a sound that was not unlike a cat hacking as he shook his head. You clenched your jaw to keep from trembling. You were nervous. Adrenaline pumping through your veins. This Finn could be either friend or foe. The fae would have you at a further disadvantage. They would have the numbers and magic. There was a part of you that screamed for you to run. You could not tell which direction it demanded. To flee? Or to pursue what could very well be the answers you craved.

You wanted to know where you had come from. You wanted to know _why_ you had been left alone in the care of the Plutts. All around, the flowers shifted. Rodents lifted their moss-furred heads and stared. You could not sense any darkness from them; there was an absence of apprehension or fear. They were timid. Kind. One of the larger rodents nuzzled a smaller, perhaps its offspring. It made the longing and hurt within you grow. Foolish as it may possibly be, you decided to meet with this _Finn_ , hoping that he would be willing to answer your questions, the ones you doubted Kylo, when he returned, would.

As you walked through the garden, you were able to learn, via the fae’s mutterings, that the individual whom you were to meet with had not originally been named _Finn_. It reminded you of the previous uttering that names had power. Did that count only with birth or soul names? This was another question you would pose when the prince returned if you had not already learned the answer before then. Your guide sidestepped as a cottage came into view. The gray stone shimmered, rainbows rippling along its surface as bits of light caught at the correct angles. You did not falter in your steps though the fae had already ceased playing the role of lead. What you had thought was wind whistling through the leaves had been revealed as a low thrum from an unseen instrument inside the building.

The door was open in welcome. The occupant had clearly been expecting a guest that night. The fae behind you? You felt the hairs on the back of your neck stand on end milliseconds before a chill ran down your spine.

You paused in the doorway. From this position you were able to see the owner of the cottage. He was dark skinned, dressed in an assortment of grays. His eyes were warm. They had lifted from the instrument, the same object that his hands abandoned, and landed on your face. Your lips parted in a silent gasp. He had no wings. This man was not a faerie, which is what you had been expecting. He appeared almost human. _Almost_. There was a glow about him, faint enough that it could be missed if one blinked or offered only a brief glance. You lifted a hand to your mouth to cover your expression of surprise.

Finn said your name, causing a new chill to run down your spine. You were not afraid, though you wondered how it was that he knew your name. “I would not allow harm to come to you.”

_ Can he read my mind? _ you wondered. The man across from you did not react. “Who… Finn?”

He hummed whilst nodding a single time. “I am Ben’s syragh...and, it seems, yours.”

You sharply sucked air into your lungs. It was just as you had started to suspect. This man, Finn, was a creature of light or at least a descendant of one. Syragh, at times referred to as guardians, had been one of the few beings from your childhood faerie tales that not one person had cursed. You had never been harshly _shushed_ upon uttering the term. Families occasionally claimed to have a single syragh. Which had you wondering how, if Finn was _Ben’s_ , how was he _yours_? You felt your heart hiccup in your chest. Heat seeped into your cheeks. If it was not a familial bond, it was something equally intimate. Kylo sparing your life had intertwined their destinies. As for him ‘tasting’ you, as he had called it, had that done more than bring you momentary pleasure?

The sense of danger that you had fostered when encountering the fae had been misplaced. You did not for one second believe that Finn would have stood idly by had you been in real danger this close to him. That also meant the dark faerie prince had not been careless with you. He had ensured you _were_ safe prior to leaving to fulfill his duties. You could not help but wonder why Kylo had failed to mention Finn. As secretive as the faerie was, this move lacked logic.

_ Unless he believed I would learn of Finn on my own. He seems to enjoy toying with me. Teasing me… _

The prince’s curiosity of humans—and half-humans who had lived in the human realm—had been the catalyst for Kylo’s creation. His desire to observe you made more sense when you looked at things from that perspective. An innocent curiosity rather than malicious manipulation. It was possible that trust was another factor. Snoke had betrayed Ben’s trust and obtained the name of his soul. Kylo was known to all before his time.

_ And now here we are. _

Your eyes came back into focus. They darted along Finn, who had returned his attention to his instrument. He was not ignoring your presence. You ventured a step forward. A question played on the tip of your tongue, and before you could ask it, the warm-eyed syragh spoke in answer.

“The imps are not fond of music. They can enter this realm if they need to, and the king does just that to gloat when Kylo meets with any failure.” The thrum of song filled the room. Soft, a whisper whose melody could blend in with the background yet one that would be missed when it ended. “I was asked to keep King Hux away. I now understand why. To protect _you_.”

_ Who am I? What am I? _

You wished to ask those questions, however found that they were like lead on your tongue, stilling the words. You listened to the song, which for reasons you could not explain evoked the visage of Kylo Ren in your mind’s eye. He mouthed the words _song of angels_ with a sardonic smirk, his eyes pinching in the corners. The description fit. While unsettled by all that had been occurring, the music did soothe you. You toyed with the pocket that held Ben. You were waiting for him to disappear, wondering just how it was that he became a part of Kylo Ren. Then your stomach flipped at the thought of the man, of all the fae, being torn in two. Their souls ripped.

You walked over to a stool that was sitting in a corner when Finn nodded in its direction. The invitation to stay need not have been there; you doubted that you would have left unless fully forced. There was a sense of safety in the cottage, perhaps solely because of the syragh himself. You were comfortable enough to draw Ben out from the pocket and cup him in both of your hands. The strange flash of red caught her attention. It was thin, wrapped around the slumbering faerie’s right arm. Attached to… Your eyes traced the trail, your brow furrowing as the string shimmered in and out of focus. It _was_ a string, or a thread if one wanted to be more specific. The red thread grew in size the further up its trail that you went. Large enough to wrap around your own right wrist.

You gently shifted the prince into your left hand in order to raise your right arm nearer to your face. You twisted the wrist this way then that. The thread never fully disappeared.

“The longer you are here,” the syragh said without ending the music, “the more you will see.” His voice was soft, not loud enough to interrupt your thoughts yet at a volume that you could easily hear it. Finn was different than Kylo in that manner. He was offering answers without you having to voice the questions. That made him no less cryptic than the Master of the Knights of Ren. “Careful with the contact you make.”

You felt your shoulders rise then fall in a heavy sigh. Your eyes had failed to leave the red thread that bound you to the sprite. Cautiously, you set the tip of your nail against the string—and leapt to your feet when the sprite stirred, his facial features contorting as though you had disturbed him. A strangled noise escaped from Finn. The syragh’s music ceased, his hand splayed across his face. His labored breathing drowned out all other sounds. Or seemed to, for you quickly realized that a haunting blanket of silence had descended upon the cottage. You could not hear your own breathing nor your heartbeat. Only Finn, and soon not even him.

It took much of your self-control to rein in the curiosity that would have prevented you from looking away from the sprite. You stared with wide eyes at the syragh. His hand had dropped away from his face and he mouthed words that took you a moment to decipher.

_ The first step to meeting your fate has now been taken. _ You shook your head, your confusion mounting. _His fate is in your hands!_ Inaudible shouting. Finn cupping his hands together as though he were attempting to conceal something.

Shadows began to play along the walls. There was no need for further hints from the guardian. You gave a nod of understanding and tucked Ben safely into your pocket mere seconds before a third individual entered the cottage. An unfamiliar, sweet aroma entered your nostrils. You inhaled the scent deeply as you tried to place its source. A flower or the owner of those footsteps? A fourth being walked inside. These footfalls you did recognize. The absence of noise from you and Finn continued. You swallowed thickly, twisting your torso, shifting your feet to turn around and face the sources of sound.

Your stomach felt cold. The unfamiliar individual was female, seductive and hardly clothed. Her tail twitched behind her as she tilted back her head to stare down the bridge of her nose at you. Her black-painted lips quirked upwards. You could not stop your gaze from dropping down, from exploring the nakedness. The stranger’s breasts were partially concealed by soft black fur. The lower part of her legs by fishnet stockings. When you raised your eyes, it was to stare at the horns and crown upon the woman’s head.

Heat seeped into your cheeks. The stranger batted her eyelashes, a low croon emitting from her just as Kylo, who had entered second, strode forward to cut her off from taking a step nearer to you.

“ _This_ is what you’ve been hiding,” the woman purred. Her voice brought goosebumps to your flesh, and your body leaned closer, as though you were being summoned. The visor of the dark fae’s mask jerked away. In embarrassment? The woman licked her lips, considered Finn, and ran a hand through her hair. As she did so, she tilted back her head, exposing her neck. The material tugged to the sides, revealing more of her breasts. You could feel your blush deepening. For once you had no need to ask Kylo or Finn for information. It was obvious to you, based on your own reactions, that the woman before you was a succubus.

But how was she there? You had been led to believe that the seal was stronger during the night.

“Phasma—”

“Hush, boy,” the succubus said gently, cupping either side of the helmet. She pressed her forehead against the metal. “I can deliver you pleasure.” You felt your stomach do a flip. The heavy atmosphere thickened, the dark power of the seductress building. Finn recoiled from her presence, struggling to touch the instrument. “A dirty little secret.” More petting, her hands roaming down the dark faerie’s chest. “Her soul for moment of lust.”

“Don’t put a price on her soul,” Finn said, his voice hoarse. Kylo jerked away from Phasma, his strength returning now that the syragh had interrupted the spell.

The succubus covered her lips with the tips of three fingers, chuckled, and dropped her hand away. “She’s more a temptress than I, toying with his fate.” Here Phasma stepped around Kylo, easily doding him when he attempted to grab hold of her. “The two halves of his soul share a destiny. To pluck the string is to summon the other.” Another bout of laughter, the sound rich, thrilling. Your lips parted, your chest rising and falling more heavily. Phasma twisted, her hand snatching up the front of Kylo’s shirt, and pulled the dark faerie prince closer. “I am no imp. Your syragh has no power over me. I require something more...tantalizing to still my tongue.”

The creature that should have claimed your soul when you had missed curfew placed a hand on the side of the succubus’s throat. She sighed. Allowed her eyes to close and lips to form a smile of pleasure. That mouth also moved around the words, a command for the Master of the Knights of Ren to act on his _true lustful urges._ The fae stiffened. Finn, too, reacted sharply; the syragh tried to protest only to fall silent as the temptress reminded him of his duty to protect the _lives_ of the pair. You looked to Finn. The proposed faustian bargain—not that you understood all that was being traded—should not have been acceptable to a being from the upper realm, should it have?

You understood that you had failed to heed the guardian’s warning. By touching the thread, you had tempted fate.

Finn shook his head, his eyes locking with yours. When he spoke, however, it was to the faerie.

_ This is not why you saved her. _

The succubus reached a hand towards the syragh, and each of his words were silenced, replaced by her own.

_ This is what you’ve been wanting. I can feel it _ — _your desire._

And as she spoke, the temptress drew nearer to the fallen prince until she was able to grab hold of his helmet and remove it. Her nakedness grew more apparent. You jerked your gaze away from Phasma. Your widened eyes fell upon Kylo, who was looking directly at you. He no longer listened to the call from the Light, to the words that would protect you from what Phasma was urging him to do. You stepped backwards in retreat. In that moment, something snapped. The dark side of Ben surged forward. In the background, muted cries from his guide. The foreground: Phasma calling for him to take a taste.

You set your forearms against his chest as he collided with you. His hands were on either side of your head, tilting it back. You squeezed your eyes closed. Never before had you been so afraid. Never before had you been so...excited. Not even when this same fae had lowered himself onto his knees before you, had moved under your nightgown.

At that thought, you heard the succubus moan in delight.

Kylo’s lips were soft. They did not slam on yours as you had expected them to. In fact, they did not fully make contact. Ghosting over yours. He seemed to suddenly become a different person. You blinked open your eyes. Those brown orbs were lighter. His clothes, too, were no longer so dark. You instinctively reached into your pocket. Empty. Ben drew away, the faerie prince now unable to meet your gaze as he dealt with his shame.

Phasma released a growl of disappointment. She was twirling her tail around a single finger, and her eyes narrowed. “There is nothing to still my tongue.” Ben looked to Finn for guidance. “Do you value your soul?” Both the syragh and the faerie prince gazed at you. You felt your stomach churn anew at the knowledge that the succubus was forcing _you_ to choose. “Don’t you want to embrace your humanity, your _desire_? To feel him on your lips. To taste him on your tongue.”

A new sort of heat entered your body, this one settling lower in your belly prior to pooling downwards.

“A small taste each night and the demon king will not know.” Phasma trailed just one of her hands down the length of her own body. “His syragh can protect _his_ virtue—do you think he cares about yours? Knowing that Master Ren has watched you sleep. Knowing that his eyes strip you down. Knowing that _something_ happened...What as it? Hmm... All that matters not to the syragh.”

In your peripheral, two mouths moving. Both Finn and Ben were trying to say something to you. You were too weak to look away from the succubus. Too curious. Was what Phasma said true? Did Kylo continue to lust after you? He had tried to kiss you. If the witching hour hadn’t ended at that exact moment, what would have happened? You failed to suppress a shudder.

“A small taste and I will let you go.” In your peripheral, from Finn: _A small taste and his darkness will grow!_

You swayed in place. Ben caught you as you stumbled backwards. His arm encircled you, his hand on your hip. You stared up at his face. Specifically, at his lips. Your tongue wet your own. A glint of red, the thread tying your wrist and his together.

The Light: _You will be fueling the darkness, not defeating it!_

The Dark: _You’ve wanted her from the moment you saw her, the moment you smelled her. That taste was not enough for you._

Ben’s mouth opened a fraction. His tongue shifted within, and you wondered how it would feel along yours.

The Dark: _You owe me for interrupting tonight. I had his soul in my grasp._

The Light: _She’s wrong. You cannot trade one soul for another._

This was the tiny prince you had had in your pocket. His features soft, his gaze gentle. You reached up to touch the side of his face. Ben leaned his cheek into the warmth of your hand. Distance was erased. His mouth closer to yours. Your lips anticipated the feel of his.

_ “Stop!” _ A blinding flash of light. You squeezed your eyes closed, reopening them at the sound of a female hiss. Phasma disappeared, fading away into smoke. Finn’s light grew brighter. In the doorway, the source of the sound. His light wings flared outwards. Had you not looked in that moment, you would have missed him. One second there, the next gone in a similar manner to the succubus. He looked exactly as he had in storybooks. Skywalker.

“Has he come to save my soul?” His voice was no different than when he had been his dark half. His tone growing venomous. You winced at the pain that bled through his words. You wondered if it was your fault, if your weakness had stained his soul as Finn had warned. Ben pulled away. Where he had been holding you, each place he had been touching, felt cold. You missed the heat. Ben cupped his right wrist in his left hand. His thumb skimmed the thread. “What have you done?” The thread was a braided strand of not only red but gold.

You were stunned into silence. Every one of your own questions were washed away and replaced by a repetition of his. What _had_ you done?


	6. Chapter 6

**The Shackles of Fate**

_ Six _

Flustered was one term applicable for describing how you felt. Remorseful in regards to what you may or may not have done. The syragh who had warned you to proceed with caution now uttered an apology; guilt was something going around in the cottage, a contagious malady that weighed heavily on your heart. Finn turned to you as a repetition of his request to be forgiven emerged. Along with it came an explanation that you had not thought of. You had human blood in you, which meant that, as a guardian, he could not strip you of your free will. When it came to defending you against the imps with music, there were no laws to prevent him from fulfilling this task. As for dissuading you from listening to the succubus, that  _ did _ have limitations. It was how Phasma had been able to silence him; because of  _ your _ choice,  _ your _ interest in hearing what the temptress was saying. Finn was incapable of robbing you of the ability to choose. Your own guilt was not lessened by this explanation. If anything, you recoiled and balled your hands into fists as frustration welled up inside of you. How could you have been so blind?

Despite having spoken in a more severe tone, the light—balanced?—side of the faerie directed a softer gaze your way. It seemed to have dawned on him that whatever you had done, it had not been intentional. Ben lowered his arm, the thread that connected the two of you dangling in the space between your bodies. You could not help but stare at it. You recalled having previously glimpsed a red thread or string on the slumbering Ben when he had been a sprite. At that time, you had not noticed whether or not it was tied to your own wrist. The braid of red and gold that connected you with Ben now made you think on the succubus’s words.

_ His fate in your hands _ . It had been, or was supposed to have been, nothing more than a childhood fairie tale along with the rest of this new part of your reality. Your fates were more intertwined now than before you had touched the red thread. The gold?

“What does…” You started to point at the edge of the gold. “...this…” Ben caught your wrist with his free hand. “...mean…” You frowned, more than a little offended that he believed you foolish enough to touch the thread for a second time. Your frustration mounted when the faerie gently shoved your hand away only to take up the thread in his own grasp. “Why can’t I—”

“You can cut it. I cannot.” Ben was apparently more forthcoming than Kylo; it was a little confusing to you that the same person could be so different. You sucked your bottom lip into your mouth. Chewed lightly on it while scanning the length that connected the two of you. The braided thread flickered in and out of sight. This prompted you to squint, which proved to assist in bringing the object into focus. There were countless questions that arose in your mind the more you observed it; some of those questions were the very ones that had previously faded away when Ben had first asked you what you had done.

It was difficult for you to choose which inquiry you should first pose. On top of that, you worried that you were being perceived as rude for not answering Ben. Then you wondered if he had expected a reply at all.

The syragh strummed the instrument, a return of the music having an instantaneous effect on the faerie prince. Those dark wings twitched in a manner that suggested he was growing more relaxed. Still, his eyes traveled to the door through which you had caught a glimpse of Skywalker. It was when Ben half-turned his body that you realized there were, in fact,  _ two _ golden threads rather than a single strand as you had originally believed. One connected to the faerie, while the other was from you. You did not dare touch either given how Ben had reacted as well as what his words implied. There was something dangerous in regards to your apparent ability to  _ cut _ the threads.

You placed distance between yourself and him. Ben startled, his head jerking back in your direction, however he made no move to intercept you. You stared at the braided threads rather than focusing on the fae’s reactions. With each step, the length seemed to grow. Your back hit the wall on the opposite side of the room before you stopped. There was a brief moment in which you considered checking if circumnavigating would extend the length as well, or if the thread would grow and shrink based on the angle of your distance. You wondered, too, if the thread could snag on objects or people.

“Uhm...Finn?” The syragh’s name rolled easily off your tongue. It felt familiar to you, friendly even. That warm feeling within you strengthened as Finn looked your way without pausing in his playing. He reminded you quite a bit of Poe; he did not treat you as being someone lesser. An orphan. A, well,  _ whatever _ you were. That had never mattered to Poe and it clearly had no bearing on how Finn would behave around you. “No one…” Your mind flashed to the children. How they sometimes gleefully ran past you. How the sprite would likely be in your pocket or somewhere else on your being when came the day. “The thread, will it catch on objects or people?”

In your peripheral, you could see immediately the way Ben’s lips began to shift. A small grin, albeit not one that left you feeling mocked. He was so different with his soul whole, you thought. Finn shook his head. It took you a moment to remember what you had asked. That was strange to you, foreign. You had never felt this way towards another. It evoked a sense of panic. Your heart began to race in a similar manner that it had when the succubus had been present. Phasma’s words rang in your ears. The way those lips, the ones set in a smile, had nearly been on top of yours.

You would have to deal with  _ that _ later. Shoving aside those thoughts as you felt the heat in your cheeks rising, you found yourself content with the knowledge that the threads were not in any danger from the children. Only you.

This called to your mind’s eye the dark fae cowering when you had stopped running to face him. In that moment you had believed yourself to be on the defense rather than an aggressor. The idea that you were a danger held an appeal due to your childhood, while at the same time it repulsed you. You could unintentionally harm, or even kill, someone because you did not, in point of fact, fully know who you were. That you would have to go on a quest for self-discovery strengthened your attraction to both Finn and Ben. More than that, it had you craving the company of Kylo, the being who had been present for the start of this journey.

The juxtaposition of behavior within the two halves of the faerie prince rolled in waves within your mind. The kindness that Ben offered, you realized, had started to lull you into a sense of false security. He was more forthcoming, but failed to be as blunt as Kylo. That had originally put you off. You had been frustrated with Kylo treating you almost like a child, however now you acknowledged that it had been your naivete and ignorance that had encouraged him to behave as such rather than your age. He would be willing to change his opinion.

If one were to use kid gloves, so to speak, in continuing your introduction to your abilities, you would remain forever vulnerable and susceptible to creatures like the succubus. Or you would harm someone, as you had potentially done with the threads.

You attempted to sort through all of the faerie tales of your childhood. Threads. There were quite a few tales. Countless varieties.

When you looked at the faerie prince, he had averted his gaze. He was saying something, or at least mouthing the words. His attention darted to the door. What had happened to make him  _ hate _ his uncle? Like the stories with the threads, there were too many renditions of Ben’s fall. It pained you to think of your legendary hero as being something so much...less. You wanted to direct the entirety of your anger on the demon king. Moreso now that you had caught a glimpse of Skywalker’s power, had felt and seen a fraction of his light.

You pinched your left index finger with your right thumb and first two digits. This was your chance to ask the questions weighing on your mind, however your tongue felt like lead. Kylo had informed you that he may not answer. This may have been due to the possibility of personal questions or being evasive was part of his personality. You wanted to try your hand when Ben was there. The same person, but also different.

“That succubus.” A clipped sentence. You put effort into keeping your tone light, nothing accusatory. Ben shifted, his shoulders slumping though he stood taller. His dark wings folded like a bat’s, wrapping around his body. The white of his attire was almost completely concealed. “Did you know her?” The syragh struck an incorrect cord. Just one, but that was all you needed. Ben shot his guardian an accustory look then turned to you. His lips were set in the beginnings of a pout that you doubted he was aware of.

“Not intimately.” Your heart fluttered at those words, at what they could or maybe did not mean. “She and I were in the same house when you”—he put a strange emphasis on that  _ you _ that gave you the impression he might not remember your name— “finished tying our fates together.” That explained the red thread. “She could sense...the feelings.”

Desire. Passion. Lust. A strange attraction.

You considered the dark fae that had led you to Finn. His teasing. The way he had described your scent. And from there your mind returned to Kylo’s behavior in your bedroom. Specifically, when he had smelled you. Next when he had tasted you, when you had allowed him to do so. His hunger for you both exhilarated and terrified you.

“And the change in my fate. If she is not soon satisfied, she will inform the demon king.” Ben had started to pace. He stepped around the feline creature that you had observed on your previous visit. Its tail flicked to the side. Once more it cooed. Ben lowered himself into a crouch and cupped a hand along its jawline. “Artoo.” Having noticed that you were watching him, the faerie prince offered you the creature’s full name: Artoo, the Second Duke of the Naboo Cait Sidhe. “He belonged first to my grandmother. Next, my grandfather. My uncle last… Until Skywalker disappeared.”

There was it was again, the venom in his voice. It faded by the time he next spoke.

Ben sighed while stroking the feline’s head. “I should have known. You conjured his image.” Another coo, as though the creature could understand what was being said. You reminded yourself that the beings of this realm were not always identical with their human realm counterparts.

Artoo stood on his hind legs. The room dimmed, which allowed the syragh, faerie prince, and you to better see the image that flickered into existence. A woman who could not have been much older than you stood shrouded in white. The relation to Ben was undeniable. You were unable to decide whether she was a sister or cousin before the image distorted, replaced by an older woman. The same female faerie, only aged at least two decades. A child ran up to her. His tiny wings fluttering behind him. Dark wings.

The present-day Ben threw himself away from the scene, spinning on his heel and resuming his pacing. Artoo was not deterred. The Cait Sidhe walked forward without disrupting the projection. His coos were conversational. Imploring you to understand whatever it was that he was trying to show you. This had to do with the faerie prince. His fate in your hands. The last time the faerie queen had entrusted her son’s life to someone, it had been her own brother. Skywalker had failed to prevent Ben from falling to Snoke and becoming Kylo. At that point, Luke had disappeared. The queen, though, she was still watching for ways to fight the demon king. She was still waiting for her child to return.

How could she not be? You ached while observing the image that played on repeat. That child running into his mother’s arms. For so long, that was what you had  _ dreamed _ about as a child. Your own parents, whatever and wherever they were, loving you unconditionally.

You reached out to pet the feline. Artoo lowered himself to where he was once more on all four legs. “Thank you,” you whispered, earning a new sound, the equivalent of a pur, from the creature. You understood now, remembered where it was you had heard about a golden thread.  _ Life _ . Those few beings from the Upper Realm—in any of the realms—that guarded the path one’s life would take. Their fate and mortality both observed.

You drew your hand back from Artoo to next address Finn. The syragh gave a nod to indicate he had witnessed the moment of your epiphany. A nod to confirm your suspicions. You faced Ben. Your expression was set with your determination. There were many things you still had yet to learn, but this you knew:

“I will find a way to the Fates, and I will ensure they undo the tangled mess I’ve put us in.”

A  _ thank you _ or similar manner of appreciation would have been grand. For your oath, however, you received nothing more than a slow-blinking Ben. The Cait Sidhe released a sorrowful coo. Off to the side, the syragh released a cough that sounded quite like a suggestion.  _ Checkyourpocket _ . The hairs on the back of your neck rose. Just when you had thought you had learned something, another layer of this mystery was added. You stuck your hand into the pocket that had previously held the slumbering sprite. It was empty. Finn’s eyebrows rose when you looked to him.

You explored the bag that you had brought with you. The small body was similar but different from the one you had previously guarded. Your chest began to ache. You had stopped breathing, had clenched your jaw, until you were able to gently withdraw your limb with the...not a sprite. Sprites were light magic, you reminded herself. This tiny dark faerie was not that, and it— _ he _ —was very much awake. Hence the difference. His back to you. Arms crossed over his chest.

_ He...isn’t whole right now _ . Your eyes meet his brown. A touch of light in Kylo, a touch of dark in Ben. They were two halves of a whole, neither complete without the other. A gold thread shimmered between the light faerie and his dark half. Their lives were connected. A shared red thread of fate. You and Kylo were also connected by a thin strand of red. Yet between you there was only a single golden thread, and you could not tell who it belonged to.

The undeniable proof that you had altered the fate of the fallen faerie prince stood in your palm. No longer did the light sleep, which meant that it would not be so easily concealed. “They should trade places,” the guardian offered after watching your eyes dart between the two halves. You absently nodded, understanding the unspoken portion quite clearly. Their altered fate meant that Ben-Kylo would not experience the agony of being torn in half. One would think that an improvement...if not for the vulnerability it left Ben with. The seal was stronger in the faerie realm for now, which was why the prince had not pressed to leave.

_ And why he is sticking close to his syragh. _ You winced, a fresh wave of guilt assaulting you. “Is… Did the witching hour not end then?”

“Not yet,” Ben said, his eyes on the floor. Kylo impatiently tapped his foot on the palm of your hand. “A few minutes more.” He did not look once at his dark half. You silently thrilled at the knowledge that the faerie glanced at you every handful of seconds. He was shy, awkward, curious—but he did not invade your personal space as Kylo was wont to do. “You really have no idea.” Gentle and amused. This was where Kylo would have been blunt while remaining cryptic, except the tiny being refused to look your way. “Phasma also believed that I was whole. There will be no bargain if she learns the truth. The moirai will not interfere with fate, will not stop the succubus from reporting to Snoke.” Kylo made a gesture with his hands, earning Ben’s attention for the first time. “I know what I should have done.” Not reprimanding. An acknowledgment. One part of the faerie prince had been willing to kiss you as the temptress had desired.

Ben raised his gaze to you following his darker half making a hand signal that you were unable to decipher. “Finn and I will teach you.” A pause. Ben’s eyes darted to the side, his brow furrowed. “Unless I still sleep at day.”

“It will be worse if you remain switched during the night,” the syragh stated. He addressed you next. “Be careful what you touch.” Kylo’s shoulder’s shook, and Ben and Finn each seemed to grow uncomfortable, flustered.


	7. Chapter 7

** The Shackles of Fate **

_Seven_

You did not move as the dark half of the faerie prince unwound his wings from himself. They fluttered, sending up a gentle breeze that caressed the palm of your hand. Your eyes widened. You had not expected to see him in flight and it caused a spark of wonder to flow through you. How would it be to see a full-sized Kylo or Ben fly? The tiny faerie drifted upwards. He alighted on your shoulder after rising to directly above your ear. The weight of his feet nudged your shirt’s material. Its collar tugged towards the side, prompting Kylo to step over it. The leather of his gloves tickled the shell of your ear when he touched there. You licked your lips as you listened, hearing his voice. It was just as deep as when he was full-size. The difference here was that it was softer in volume; you would not have been able to hear it had he maintained the distance that had existed mere moments before.

You felt as though someone had pierced your heart with a lance. Just as blunt as ever, the darker half was more forthcoming when it came to the danger you now faced due to altering his fate. _Those in armor dyed blood red._ His repetition of the line from the nursery rhyme lacked the mocking tone he had previously adopted.

The syragh would be incapable of protecting you against those servants of the demon king. Whatever music Finn played, it would not stop the praetorian guards from pursuing you. It hardly mattered what you touched or did not touch if you remained in the realm past the point of the seal’s weakening. You considered Finn and the light half of the faerie prince. As far as you could tell, neither of them were armed with a weapon. You did not know enough about magic to say whether or not they could fight without one. And unless fate decided to favor you at long last, you sincerely doubted the red armored guards would have visible threads for you to magically cut.

It may have been inappropriate that you snorted in amusement over the mental image of using your fingers as scissors to cut some thread.

“Is it true?” you asked once you recovered. Ben’s eyes darted to his other half then returned to your face. He offered you a nod by way of response. You felt your hands begin to tremble. It was difficult to erase every sense of nervousness from yourself now that the danger was becoming more imminent. It was harder to deny that any of this was real. The most terrifying thing? You truly did not want it to be some dream. All your life, you had feared that you were just some nobody, someone unwanted. Not that it mattered who your parents were—they had chosen to leave you no matter their reasons. Now you were part of something larger than yourself.

Except you were not sure how you felt about being some heroine. That was a bit much, wasn’t it? It was not like you were a Skywalker or one of the other heroes you had read about as a child.

Not that Skywalker had lived up to all your expectations. It was clear that Ben had become Kylo at least partially due to Luke Skywalker’s failure. That was what scared you. The idea that you were a heroine who could _fail_.

Recounting the vow that you had made to Ben, you forced aside your doubts. You raised your right hand, crossed it over your chest, and held up your index finger to where Kylo would be able to grab on. He opted to pet the digit instead then pat at it, shooing it away. He was content to remain on your shoulder. You did not press the issue. Although, you had to admit, it did make you a little self-conscious with how close he was to your neck.

Ben drew you out of your thoughts once more as he approached Artoo. The Cait Sidhe flicked his tail, lowered himself onto all four legs, and executed a quick spin. The air shimmered around him. The creature used his magic, unveiling the hilt of a weapon. Ben knelt briefly, grabbing it, and then walked over to you. The faerie prince spared his sygraph a final glance. They nodded at one another in understanding. Artoo and Finn were standing side by side when Ben seized you by your upper arm and steered you out of the hut. Kylo crouched down on your shoulder. He was ready to spring into action at a moment’s notice. You hoped there would be no need for this.

“Maybe I should have a weapon,” you supplied. After all of you had re-entered the garden, the fae had dropped his hand off of you. You glanced at the object that he had received from Artoo. Ben looked at you with his eyes alone. Neither of you stopped walking even as he informed you that the weapon had belonged to his grandfather then uncle. It was a family heirloom. “I don’t have to have _that_ weapon.” Though you said this, there was something that drew your gaze to the weapon again. It was the one from the stories of your childhood. For that reason alone the weapon seemed to call to you. “Why doesn’t Finn come with us?” You had to think of something, anything, to distract yourself from that call.

Ben grabbed at your wrist, giving a light jerk to indicate a turn. “The guards would kill him in an instant.” It was not comforting in the least, this implication that they would not immediately kill you. This was what it meant to have a marked soul, wasn’t it? To constantly be looking over your shoulder…

You did just that as another faerie creature peeked at you from one of the trees. It ducked back into the shadows before you were able to catch a decent glimpse of it. A glint of silver entered your peripheral. This, too, you could not identify, although the reasoning was different. Ben shoved you away from him. You felt your kneecap hit the ground. You hissed in pain, your hand shooting out to prevent your face from meeting a similar fate. Rolling, you narrowly missed a chain being wrapped around your body. It ricocheted back to its owner. It had not been a faerie, you realized.

Not at all.

You stared up at the red armored being whose face was concealed behind a mask. Despite this, you felt his eyes on you. Or was it her eyes on you? You shuffled backwards. You tried to slide your foot faster in order to stand, yet found yourself being forced to roll onto your hands and knees instead to avoid another attempt at being chained. You sprang forward. Kylo had ducked around to hide behind your neck. You did not think him a coward for these actions; his quiet voice was loud in your ears. Offering you instructions—you understood that it would be more detrimental for the guard to realize that Kylo and Ben had switched places than for the dark faerie to hide. Ben had moved out of sight. He was covering his bright clothes with his wings.

As of yet, there was only one of the red armored guards. You hoped that that number did not increase.

You also wished that you had insisted on grabbing the weapon from Ben. Kylo told you to go left. Having been headed rightwards, you gave a rather unladylike curse and stumbled into a run to correct course. Your eyes were in constant motion. As like when you had dealt with the dark fae, you searched for any object that you could use to defend yourself. You checked over your shoulder to see how far away the guard was. He was pursuing you at a leisurely pace. Toying with you just as Kylo had informed you he would do. The praetorian guard could smell your scent, which was not as strong as before now that you had the dark half of the faerie prince with you. The demon king’s minion would try to identify your species before he became serious in his attempts to capture you. That quick look allowed you to see that you could not identify any random threads.

When you commented on this fact, Kylo voiced his approval. It was better if Snoke did not learn what you were.

“Am _I_ ever going to learn?” you snapped, your hand snatching at a thin, half-broken branch that you threw into your pursuer’s path. A smile formed on your face when you heard it hit his ankle. It did not stop him, but it did momentarily slow him down.

You began to circle back. You made a wide arc to prevent capture and searched for Ben. He was not where you had left him. All you could make out were yellow-leaved weeds spotted with green petaled flowers. It would help you to gain more speed if you chose to drop your bag. Except you were not sure if the guard would grab it up, would possibly find a means of identifying you or the household that you worked for with it. You were not even sure if going home was a possibility. Your mind flashed through Rose’s warnings.

“We are heading for the portal. Not back to me.” That was an interesting way to phrase things. You sighed heavily. Your lungs burned as you changed course while listening to instructions given by the tiny dark faerie. This was not how you had hoped to learn the location of the portal—or one of the portals—that linked your realm with this one. Ben would meet you there, or so his dark half said.

_Does he have double-vision?_ You were getting a headache trying to keep your own thoughts together, and you were not split into two.

Your mouth dropped open in a silent yelp of pain when one of those small hands grabbed a lock of your hair and tugged. You doubted he had purposefully hurt you. You lifted a hand, exploring along the area that you had last felt Kylo. You were forced to reach farther back and quickly learned why he had pulled your hair. He was hanging on with one hand. From the other, you felt something warm. A hissed _careful_ stilled your exploring limb. Not a minute later, you moved it again by his order that you move your hair out of his way. You were cautious when doing so, ensuring that you did not knock him loose from the strands he was holding. The heat emanating from him increased. Light blinded you on that side. You squinted then closed your eye.

“What are you doing?” you asked. You needn’t have.

The chain zipped past, a loud _clink_ sounding in your ear where the dark faerie had used his power to deflect it, else it would have wrapped around your neck. The red armored servant of the demon king was fast losing patience. Learning your species could come second to his capturing you.

“This will hurt.”

“What—ah!”

A body collided with yours. Darkness enveloped you, a soft darkness that you recognized as Ben’s wings, and you were tugged away from the chain as it began a reverse path back to the guard. The pain of that collision failed to prepare you for the agony that threatened to overcome all reasoning. Tears formed in your eyes. They started to roll down your cheeks, and your fingers scrambled against the material of Ben’s clothing as you tried to grab hold of something, anything at all. You felt as though knives were carving along your flesh. Your muscles were screaming. As though someone was twisting them in all sorts of directions and tearing them apart.

The faerie prince had warned you in the past about how painful a portal could be. You had not expected this. You had believed he was exaggerating.

The sound of metal, a chain, cut through your cries. It did not erase an iota of the pain assaulting you. Kylo was speaking. You understood not a single syllable. Ben slipped his arms around you along with his wings. He held onto you. It was his murmuring that cut through the pain. Not that you heard the words he spoke. Simply the sound of his voice had a calming effect; it had to be a white magic spell, that was what you told yourself. You heard more distinctively the metal chain when it struck the second time. It met its target this time, wrapping around Ben’s wings and tightening them against your body.

_This is what it feels like to be under his full control._

You knew without being told that you had not been meant to hear Kylo mutter those words. They revealed more to you than his frustration. It was one of the reasons that he had not taken you to Snoke when he had caught you out of bed during the witching hour. He _needed_ his light safe. Not chained down by the demon king, as the guard now did.

The smell of smoke entered your nostrils as you reopened your eyes. There was a small body that you caught sight of in the corner of your eye. It was male. Had pointed ears and horns, the latter of which caused you to lean away to avoid being pierced. His black, equally sharp wings flapped, keeping him hovering in the air. Kylo thrust himself forward and uttered out a single word, a name, _Hux_. The imp king. A third eye opened on his chest, as did a mouth filled with fangs on his abdomen. The mouth upon his face morphed into a grin.

“Such a predicament, Ren.” His voice was smooth and filled with confidence. “I hadn’t believed it to be true, and could not check due to that wretched syragh.” His nostrils flared as he inhaled your scent. You curled your hands into fists. If it wasn’t for all of the sharp protrusions, you would have grabbed for him. “Ensuring the bargains were made with Snoke, that was only the beginning.” The imp king held a single finger up to his lips. A dark aura surrounded him. It spread outwards, drawing out a shout of pain from Ben. The chain loosened; you could hear it. “You will be quite useful as well, _girl_.”

A return of the smoke as the sound of something shattering—the chain, though to your ear it sounded like glass—made you flinch. In the half second it took to reopen your eyes, everything had changed. The darkness that resulted from Ben’s wings was gone. There was no pain. The world around you was semi-familiar. The stars above those of _your_ realm. The demon king’s servant who was armored in red had failed to follow when the portal had spat you out. When the imp king had _forced_ the portal to spit you out.

Your heart stuttered. You fumbled to locate Kylo with your hand and heard a yelp from either side of you as the limb wrapped around the body. It was like an echo. You reached up with your other hand without thinking. A repetition of the cry preceded Kylo swearing at you. You held onto the sprite and small dark faerie, loosening your grip to reduce the pressure, and brought them down to where you could see them.

The braided threads remained attached to the three of you. They swung back and forth, seeming to phase through your flesh each time they would have knocked against you.

“It’s still night.” The seal was weaker there though the witching hour had clearly ended. Ben and Kylo spoke in unison. You could see their mouths move but did not hear them. You began to pull Kylo closer, paused, brought Ben nearer instead, and once more hesitated. A strangled noise of frustration escaped you. You pulled the pair of them up to either side of your head. They again spoke in unison, their voices an echo.

_You need to run!_

The air was spiraling around, warping on itself. Three slices of red armor began to appear. You did not wait for the guards to fully arrive. You obeyed the command of the faerie prince and started to run.

“Now would have been a great time to use that weapon, you know?” you quipped. The sprite cupped said object with both of his hands and shook his head. He did not want you to fight. That was frustrating. It made you feel more strongly for his dark side, who had nodded his agreement.

The lights were out in the buildings of the city behind you. Still, you could hear the cries of the witnesses of the night’s victims. You gave a silent prayer that the children were all safe. Rose had to have succeeded in keeping the twins and Dean out of harm’s way. The baby would be easy. He always was. You ran further away from the city and the house in which those you loved were, hopefully, sleeping. The stars above twinkled except for when they momentarily disappeared to permit entrance to another of the red armored demons.

You yanked your arm when it felt as though something snagged—the braided thread. You inhaled sharply. Your hand sprung open. The two halves of the faerie prince shifted onto your shoulders, holding tightly onto the material of your shirt. The hand that had previously held Ben was instead wrapped around something else. Something larger. The hilt of the weapon that Artoo had given to him. The weapon that had belonged to Luke Skywalker, and his father before him. Your eyes widened in astonishment and a thrill ran through you. It was a welcomed sensation, no longer feeling completely defenseless as you were hunted by the red armored demons.


	8. Chapter 8

** The Shackles of Fate **

_Eight_

A terrifying truth regarding the sadistic side of the Demon King Snoke became apparent to you as you ducked from another attack that a red armored demon aimed your way--they wanted you alive, though they cared not if you were maimed. What would bring Snoke great joy would be to see you miserable as you were dragged to him. There were tales that said misery bred a new flavor for the soul. It could twist or corrupt it; it gave it a different _spice_. You wrinkled your nose at that thought, corrected your grip on the weapon that was in your possession, and looked for an opening in your assailant’s defense. Finding a potential break, you thumbed the switch that activated the blade. The blue glow pervaded the darkness, and the sudden appearance of the blade caught the demon by surprise. It stuttered in its step, leaving it vulnerable to the swing you directed at its midsection.

Its reaction time was inhuman--no surprise--and so it thrust itself backwards, limiting the damage done. Despite this, you managed to cut away a portion of its red armor. The demon was not hollow beneath; you glimpsed the flesh and felt your lips curl upwards. There was little pleasure in attacking another, however you could not say that you weren’t feeling a sense of contentment with the knowledge that your enemy was made of flesh rather than some spirit or shade you could not touch. The Demon King had far too many variations of servants under his command, and some legends spoke of shades that only faeries could face. That was another reason that the faeries had separated from humans. It was what you had suspected the demons armored in red would be. This was one situation in which you were pleased to be wrong.

As though you were connected in some way that you could not explain, you _felt_ Kylo’s frustration over the fact that he was not the one facing the demons. He did not like sitting on the sidelines. This reminded you of Rey, your childhood friend who had helped you learn how to defend yourself at all.

Remembering an attack that she had taught you, you feigned a strike then aimed for a different part of the demon’s body. The armored being remained swift, though not enough to dodge away from the very tip of the blue blade, which bit into another portion of its armor. Then it was your turn to dodge. Another demon sprung up from behind, its aim at your shoulders. Had the attack been successful, the two halves of the faerie prince would have been knocked off of your body, and your grip on the Skywalker weapon would have faltered. Instead you lost your footing, tumbled forward, and were more than a little grateful that the weapon deactivated on the way down. You did not want to think about how many times you would have been impaled or cut by it.

That was the least of your worries--what _may have been_ did not hold a candle to _what might become_ in terms of your fate. The hilt rolled out of your hand and towards the foot of a third red armored demon. You sprang forward in an attempt to seize it before the demon could do anything, however pressure around your ankle preceded the sensation of something piercing your flesh. You cried out in pain, hissing the next moment. Continuing to struggle forward, you spared a glance over your shoulder at the pronged whip that had found purchase on your leg. Red seeped out of the wounds that had been created. They were shallow, thankfully, although if the demon applied more pressure then the prongs would bury themselves more deeply. That could maim more than your flesh; it would tear at your muscles. As you turned back, your fingers closed around the weapon’s hilt at the same time that the demon’s hand did.

Kylo slid down the length of your arm, his own weapon activated so that the red blade stabbed through the red armor and whatever flesh lay beneath. He then executed a backflip to keep from being swatted as his victim jerked its limb away in pain. You, armed once more, twisted and swung downwards at the whip with the reactivated blade, severing the section that held you captive from the main body. You yanked your leg towards your torso, brushed the remnant of the whip off of yourself. Having it catch on anything, or risking the chance of one of the other demons grabbing hold of it, would not be good.

As Kylo returned to your shoulder, you felt Ben shifting on the other side. You whispered under your breath, questioning the small faerie, asking what he was doing. The response received was a whisper too soft for hearing. You scowled at the inaudible words only to be grateful for the hushed tone, as you were able to hear the attack that had been directed at your feet. You leapt, landed nearly a foot away from your starting point, and resumed running as you hit the ground.

Your mind began to race with thoughts that these demons might not disappear once the sun rose. Teeth clattering as more adrenaline rushed into your veins, you worked to decide on an end location. To lead these demons on a path that resulted in the deaths of innocents would break your spirit. “What are the chances you’ll answer a question without a riddle?” This inquiry you directed at Kylo, who flitted nearer to your ear, his small hands tickling its shell. You shuddered without breaking stride. “Will I continue to be in danger from these demons when it’s day?”

“Some are not bound by the clock in the same way as the others.” A riddle, but one that you were not displeased with. It was answer enough. Even a reduction in the number of demons pursuing you would offer some sort of reprieve. “You needn’t worry.”

That might have been a phrase spoken to comfort you if it had come from another. With Kylo, you understood it to be a statement of fact--a revelation that something would occur that would lessen your burden. All you needed to do was survive a little while longer. Not completely on your own; you replayed how Kylo had stabbed the one demon’s hand. You were not alone, and it was this that gave you the energy to increase your speed and dart in another new direction. Anything that would keep these demons from capturing you or harming other beings in the realm that you had been raised.

The only other question that you wanted to ask, albeit after you were not preoccupied with red armored demons, was why the imp had seemed to _help_ you by thrusting you out of the portal as he had. You doubted that this had been out of the goodness of his heart. No, he had ulterior motives, and you were already dealing with strings being attached to deeds committed by those around you. Sparing a glance at said strings, you noticed a knot had formed in one of the threads.

_Will it cause more trouble if I untangle it or if I leave it alone?_ Another question that would have to be left for a later time; a new red armored demon appeared from a portal that opened mere feet from where you were, this one ahead of you. It was as though they had your location pinpointed and could summon reinforcements to cut you off.

You pushed backwards with your feet, propelling yourself away from the new assailant. This action was interrupted by a sudden weight that knocked you off balance. A weight, you noticed, that had been on your shoulder. Where the light side of the faerie prince had been, there was a hand clasping you. You turned your head, your eyes widening. Ben shifted his hand away from your shoulder in favor of seizing hold of his family weapon. He removed it from your grasp, and you did not struggle against him despite the fact that you would have preferred to remain armed. Instead you lowered your attention to the knot that previously caught your eye. The braided thread was loosened, no longer threatened by whatever had caused it to tangle in the first place.

Another increase in weight preceded Kylo’s hand clasping your shoulder. He used it to push himself up onto his feet, shoving you further into the ground. You scowled at him though you said nothing. He had already activated the red blade that so many feared. The two halves of the faerie prince fell into fighting stances, each different yet similar to the other. You blinked thrice, clearing away the threat of blurred or double-vision from having glanced at one then the other of the halves in rapid repetition. Their blades cast different shades of light that merged to emit a combined hue of purple on the armor of the demons that approached.

How it was that they were both normal size, you did not know. What you did know, or what occurred to you, was that the revelation that Ben continued to exist was not going to end well. The Demon King Snoke would know for a fact that Kylo had tricked him regarding your fate, and that Leia had deceived him in regards to Ben’s. There would be more that would pursue you. Or Ben. Or both, you noted while observing the threads connecting you to the two halves elongating as the pair thrust themselves forwards to meet the red armored demons in battle.

You observed the battle as best you could, ever vigilant in case a weapon was dropped that you could retrieve. It would give better odds for success if you fought alongside them. That was another thing that Rey and you had learned together during your childhood. Finn, too, had seemed to encourage the three of you to work together. To what extent, that remained a mystery. As did your own past, which was vexing.

Kylo and Ben moved almost as one, their attacks suddenly mirroring one another. It was then that it hit you in full that this was one person--faerie--that one day, one would disappear forever. You placed a hand to your heart, took a deep breath, and willed away those thoughts, which at this point would only be a distraction and likely get you killed or captured. Kylo caught the demon’s weapon on the tip of his blade. Ben, meanwhile, aimed a kick at the small of the being’s back, which knocked it forwards. The weapon slid further along the red blade. Eyes widening, you rushed forward with the intention of grabbing that weapon for yourself; the red blade was eating through the demon’s fingers, which meant that soon you would be armed once again.

Ben had not removed his wings from his clothing throughout the battle. On top of that, running had the battle had dirtied what bits of material were not shielded by the dark wings. These facts struck you suddenly, and allowed a sense of relief to flood through you. The red armored demons might not realize just who Ben was other than that he belonged to the fae. The fight needed to be wrapped up before that could change.

With the demon’s weapon in your grasp, you readjusted your grip and fell into a different fighting stance. Shimmers of gold flickered in and out of view. You blinked once to clear your vision. The flickers did not cease. Instead they grew in frequency, the tiny strands woven together into a familiar kind of thread. It was not unlike what linked you to Kylo or Ben. A surge of delight ran through your body. At long last something was going your way, luck was on your side. You sprang into action, taking a swipe at the thread. The demon leapt backwards. You narrowly missed your target.

Kylo shifted, his shoulder brushing against yours as he drew up to your side, and you straightened. Ben had come to your other side. It was jarring how in sync the two halves could be one moment only to act almost as separate beings entirely the next. “Don’t.” The single syllable was whispered; had it not been, the demons armored in red would have fully witnessed the fact that both halves spoke in unison. You clenched your jaw as frustration began to grow inside of you. Why had he stopped you?

The question was answered in the proceeding seconds as the demons all around fell out of their fighting stances. You glanced at the sky, which was beginning to brighten with the first signs of morning. Various hues were eating through the darkness, and the stars were fading from sight. There was a crackle of energy that made the hair on the back of your neck stand on end. You held your breath. Whatever was happening, Ben’s hand had curled into a fist while Kylo’s had not. The lighter half of the faerie prince began to tremble as though in pain. You itched to grab hold of his hand, to comfort him, however a small voice told you to stay put. Kylo was regaining control.

“To lure more souls for the king,” Kylo said. HIs voice was level, so like it had been when he had first appeared in your room. In your peripheral, you saw that Ben was gritting his teeth, keeping his jaw from moving while his other half spoke. “And to train another whose allegiance I have claimed.”

“Yet you hid.” One of them spoke though all stepped forward. They remained on edge, mistrusting. Their focus was trained on Kylo, not a one of them looking at Ben from what you could see.

Kylo pointed his reactivated red blade at them, causing each of the demons to come to a sudden halt. “A _demon_ can never understand the mind of a faerie.” The arrogance in his voice was something that you would have taken offense to if the words had been directed your way. As such you were not surprised when the demons grumbled, when they bristled. They looked at one another in turn, trying to communicate without speaking.

_Can they speak telepathically?_ There was too much you did not yet know.

The golden threads that belonged to each of the demons became more solid with each passing second as silence stretched amongst the gathered group of which you were a part. Kylo tilted his head back, staring down at the red armored beings. A challenge, tempting them to report to the demon king at their own peril. It occurred to you why it was that he had changed tactics. Your scent along with your marked soul may have caused the demons to grow suspicious, however they would not know for certain what you were--unless you revealed yourself by cutting through a golden thread. There were enough demons present for one to escape the moment they witnessed that feat.

On top of potentially revealing your origins, though they remained unknown to you, Ben would also have been exposed in full to the demons who were now doubting what they believed. It would not stall them forever, yet this would buy the three--two?--of you time to prepare for the next nightfall. You shrunk, pretending to cower in fear in a manner that might make you appear subservient to the faerie prince.

Kylo grabbed hold of the weapon you had obtained during the fight, tossing it back to its owner. The demon caught it without offering any form of gratitude.

“Do not mistake that you are without suspicion.” The words floated in the air that hung between your group and theirs. Neither Kylo nor Ben reacted to the threat. With a grunt, the red armored demons turned and headed for the portal through which they had arrived. The sky above was growing ever brighter; you suspected this had much to do with the reason that they were more docile in the wake of Kylo’s words. Even if they could remain in the world of humans during the day, their powers would weaken.

Beside you, Ben’s trembling did not cease but instead grew in intensity. You stiffened. Not all of Snoke’s guards had traveled enough to be out of sight. If any happened to turn around, their suspicions would only increase. You lifted your hand, reached out for him only to pause. After a heartbeat, you resumed movement and placed your palm against his arm. Ben’s knees gave out, the prince collapsing. You held in the cry that would have drawn more attention your way, dropping down to one knee and bringing both of your hands together to form a cup that caught him as he reverted to sprite form. Your eyes widened in wonder. The small sprite was once more slumbering, his breathing even.

_When will he wake again?_ This question erased all thoughts of the demons you had encountered mere minutes ago. You slipped the small sprite into your pocket just as you had before then turned around to face Kylo. He had one hand raised, stifling a yawn with the back of it. You felt your eyebrows raise in response to this. Such an action was so normal, so mundane, that it caught you off guard when executed by the being in front of you.

“Are you going to shrink again as well?” His mouth twisted into a frown at your question.

“That was likely a result of your meddling.” You must have grown accustomed to such behavior and responses from him, as you did not react to his words at all. Being a nursemaid helped as well, you supposed. His accusation was childlike--your naivete when it came to matters of your powers was no fault of your own. Furthermore, Kylo had done nothing to remedy this. He could not deny responsibility if he wanted to be honest.

Suspecting that to voice these facts would serve nothing other than to irritate the dark being, you hummed in thought and ran a hand down the length of one arm. The silence drew Kylo’s attention onto you. His jaw worked in a manner that revealed his desire to speak though ultimately he said nothing until another minute had passed. Then, when he did speak, it was not of whatever had been on his mind regarding you.

“I will gather the Knights of Ren. Their loyalty is to me, not the Demon King.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapters hereon are plotted to have more explicit content; I will work to include proper trigger warnings.


	9. Chapter 9

** The Shackles of Fate **

_Nine_

Since his proclamation that he would gather the Knights of Ren--who, if you were to be perfectly honest, you were nervous to meet--Kylo had been relatively silent. There was no discussion held as to whether or not it would be safe for you to return to the home in which you worked. Far too many unknown factors existed. Resting was top of your list of tasks to accomplish, and so you broke away from the dark faerie to walk under a tall tree. You all but collapsed once you arrived. The amount of physical activity that your body had forced to complete during the night was nothing entirely new, however it had been quite some time since such exertions were a necessity. You set a hand on your forehead, closed your eyes, and fought off the urge to fall asleep. The world felt as though it tilted, rocking back and forth like a ship on the sea.

Footsteps alerted you to Kylo’s approach. You did not reopen your eyes even as his leg then arm brushed against you. His hand found your stomach, and it felt as though all air had been siphoned out of your lungs. Your eyelids slowly rose, your gaze switching to his face. His eyebrows were knitted in concentration. He patted along your stomach, his touch growing nearer and nearer to where Ben slumbered. The helmet that he possessed was sitting on the ground not a foot away. You batted at his limb, a scowl forming on your face as you huffed with indignation. Why was it, you wondered, he believed that he could invade your personal space as he did? Kylo pulled his hand back--only for it to shoot forward and pin your shoulder against the tree.

His face was in yours, the tip of his nose touching your own. You held your breath, waiting, wondering what it was that he planned to do. Blood seeped into your cheeks. Heart pounding in your chest and ears, you lowered your eyes to look at his lips. “When are you going to answer my questions?” It surprised you, the fact that you had been able to speak at all. That you had asked the question instead of stuttering out nonsense, that was a bonus.

“Knowledge can be a burden.” That was no lie, however it _was_ an evasion. You touched the hand that remained on your shoulder, allowing yourself the chance to feel him through his glove. To have this contact now that your life and soul were not in immediate danger. The thread that connected the pair of you swung back and forth with every minor movement that you made. The guardedness with which he carried himself had increased since before he had fought side by side with his lighter half. “You aren’t afraid of me.”

You well understood the confusion given your previous reactions to him. More and more you were growing comfortable with his presence, his touch. With him. You _wanted_ that contact. Longed to know him beyond this fight for your soul. There were flickers of vulnerability in his eyes if one looked deeply enough. It was unlikely that many were granted such opportunities to even try.

Muscles tired and aching from the physical exertions endured over the course of the night, it was all too easy to collapse against him. Your shoulder brushed along his, your head tilted back invitingly. Kylo did not ignore the offer. He touched his lips to yours, initially with such a lightness that it felt as though feathers were caressing you. Then he applied more pressure, moved into the kiss. You lifted your hands to cup his face, your elbows touching his collarbone to keep him from leaning too much into the kiss; you remained aware of Ben slumbering in your pocket and had no desire for him to be squished. The first kiss transformed into another. Kylo’s hunger grew, yet so did your own. You felt his tongue pushing forward, demanding to taste you, and you allowed him to deepen the kiss. His attraction to you was one question that he never failed to answer.

Only when you needed air did you pull away. Kylo allowed you to do so, his eyes in motion so that he could drink in your features beginning with your face before shifting lower. “I could speculate the imp’s motivations, but that would only hinder us.” The words caught you off guard, which made the process of understanding why he said them longer. As it dawned on you that Kylo had answered a question you had asked during the ordeal with the red armored demons, you felt a sense of gratitude. He more often kept his thoughts to himself, and so to include you meant that he respected you more than he had prior to the night’s events. “The Knights of Ren will unveil the truth.” You were less afraid to hear him speak of those mysterious beings from the tales you had been told for years.

“Tell me about them?” You ensured that the words came off as a question rather than a demand, aware that he might be more likely to entertain you this way.

“You will learn in time.” The nonanswer jerked you back to reality, to the awareness that this faerie would not so easily hand over information unless he felt like doing so. You resisted the urge to argue, an urge that was not as powerful as it had previously been. There would be other routes to learn what it was that you sought. “You will arrive at the wrong conclusion.”

It was so endearing, his lack of faith in you. You waved a hand in the air to dismiss his negativity while running through lessons that you had received while younger and more that you had overheard from Governess Tico. The Knights of Ren that served under the dark faerie prince assisted him in stealing the souls of others. Details beyond that fell into the category of speculation. You could not think of any stories that starred the Knights of Ren that served under Kylo after he had fallen to Snoke.

“Are they worse than the demon king’s guards?”

“They are more powerful,” he conceded before elaborating, “when the proper ritual is completed to grant them entrance to this realm.” You pinched your lips into a thin line and shot Kylo a stern look that you generally kept for when you scolded one of the children when they acted up. It had no effect on him.

Yet you knew well what might, and so you pushed forward again and placed your mouth atop his. He stiffened underneath you, as though he were readying himself to go on the defensive. Slowly, gently, you bent at a new angle to ghost your lips along his jawline. Kylo shuddered, the trembling in his body preceding a shift in his hand. The limb shot towards you. His fingers were arched as they landed on your hip, his thumb biting into your flesh though not causing you enough pain that you wished to stop.

“You are so sure of yourself.” His murmured words did make you pause. You hummed, meeting his gaze, which was filled with unconcealed hunger. Memories stirred with you of that first night with him, of how his tongue had felt on you, in you. The way he had hinted that to cross over his threshold with you in his arms would have meant something more. Was that merely on a carnal level? Or did it indicate something intimate in another fashion?

You touched your fingers to his chin, asking yourself how far you would go with him. Not only for answers. This connection that you felt, it ran deep. Since before the braided threads had appeared, you had known that you were bound to Kylo. He had spared your soul, and that had to count for something. This was more than simply a means of freeing himself from Snoke, it had to be. You refused to believe otherwise.

The succubus’s temptations rang in your ear. Ben’s reluctance to indulge did not sting; that Kylo--here you reminded yourself that this was his true name, and what that meant--had not wanted to resist, that drove you forward. You pressed your body to his, claimed his mouth with your own. Moving onto his lap, you felt his erection against your inner thigh. Kylo grunted when you ground down into him. He grabbed onto your hips with both of his hands and this time his thumbs did dig into you hard enough that you winced and broke the kiss while ceasing your actions. You stretched, your chest near his face, and set the heels of your hands against the front of his shoulders.

“Are you willing to give me your blood?”

You wondered both what he wanted it for and what offering such a thing would mean in the long term. “Yes.” This question, the fact that your answer was true, solidified what you had already begun to accept. “I trust you with my life, my soul.” One of his hands began to move. It crawled up your body, along your stomach and to your breast, where it paused, toying with you. Kylo rolled your nipple in a circle before continuing upwards. He hooked his thumb into your mouth, which you had opened without any need for a command. You sucked on the digit. Enjoyed the way his eyes became partially hooded.

Kylo ran his tongue along his teeth, the act visible to you without any obstacles. You understood what he wanted then, the previous hint having been obscured by the lust clouding your gaze. Instead of your thumb, it was your first and middle finger that you slipped past his lips and set upon his teeth. You had felt them with your tongue when the two of you had kissed, however they were suddenly more threatening, sharper. That or awareness of what was to come had your senses heightened. Heart hammering in your chest, you knew that your pupils had widened in anticipation of pain that was not swift in arriving.

He applied pressure only to relent. Your jaw, too, had moved against the thumb that was held captive. You loosened your hold. Heat wormed through your body.

The world was in motion, spinning, and you blinked then stared up at the sky before switching your attention back to his face as you adjusted to the new position. Laid upon the ground, you placed your free hand on his stomach to keep Ben from being crushed and spread your legs as his hips rocked forward. His hard cock pushed against your clothed cunt. You were growing wet, slick, even as he bit down and drew blood from your fingers. You released a small cry of pain that devolved into a hiss then moan. The wounds were not deep. Four teeth marks released blood, which dripped onto your face. You blinked, turned your head to keep from getting any in your eyes.

Kylo seized the wrist of your captive fingers, jerking your arm to remove the bloodied digits from his mouth. As though he had to literally force himself to do so. Your eyebrows rose then knit towards one another at the thought. Did your blood taste different than a full blooded human’s? Or would he hunger for any blood at all? Whatever the case, it was clear to you that he did not aim to consume the liquid. It was something--would this be darker, you wondered, than eating you? To do blood magic, which demons were known to adore, spoke clearly of the nature of the Knight, or Knights, of Ren that would be summoned.

“It’s only going to be _my_ blood, correct?” It was by luck that the shaking of his head went unmissed. Adrenaline shot through your veins, and you began to push yourself up. Kylo shoved you flat against the ground and spread his wings, blocking the fading stars from view.

It felt as though all air had been siphoned out of your lungs. You stared with wide eyes at his outstretched wings. “Shh.” Not kindly, though not cruelly either. A demand for your silence, one that you obeyed. Kylo tugged his thumb, the one that had left your mouth when you had spoken, into his mouth and bit down on it just as he had done to your fingers. Blood trickled past his lips, reddening their surface until his tongue flicked out to draw the substance in. You marveled at its sight, its smell.

Faerie blood possessed a stronger scent, one that was sweet and crisp. It enraptured your mind, bringing to you a sense of calm so that you merely tilted back your head to expose your neck for his teeth when Kylo leaned down. His nose skimmed your flesh before his mouth sealed on the offered skin. This time he did not bite you, although had he done so you would not have been disappointed or angry. He traced his bloodied thumb under your nose and smeared some of it on your upper lip. The sweetness of it made you shudder, had you flicking out your tongue to taste it, to taste him. This was not what blood should taste like, a part of you said. Yet you did not care.

You cupped his wrist and drew his thumb back to your mouth, whereupon you puckered your lips and kissed the wound. More blood stained your lips then your tongue. A pinch at your throat was the first indication that he meant to bleed you more. You re-angled yourself again to give him easier access, aware of how delicate an area he was working with. Kylo rolled his hips, rocking against your thigh.

“Oh…” If you asked him for more, what would he do? Spill more of your blood? Give you more of his? Or would he undress you, touch you? Would he allow you to touch him? “I want that.”

The stinging pain on your neck increased, and you felt the wetness of your blood and his saliva combining upon its surface. Kylo dragged his bloodied hand down your body until he could cup between your legs. He murmured words you did not catch. When all you released was a sigh, he spoke again. “There are limits to how far we can venture before the consequences damn us.”

From your understanding of the warning, sex was off the table. That did not include oral, if that first night was anything to go off of. He had tasted you in so many ways, had allowed you to sample his blood. This night, at his own pace, Kylo was in a giving mood. And you were willingly greedy for more, to take advantage of this version of kindness. You moved your hand to cup him in return, toying with his cock through the material of his pants. It twitched against your palm, making your mouth water more than it already had.

“I may have to bite you again to renew the supply of blood.” You nodded, accepting these consequences as a result of your choice. “Very well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will have more smut and some bloodplay. I plan to have it be at least 3k as well. This one came out a little shorter than I thought it would.


	10. Chapter 10

** The Shackles of Fate **

_Ten_

The fading darkness of night as dawn drew nearer offered enough concealment that you did not worry anyone would catch you. Kylo stood, his wings outstretched and demanding your attention, and observed you. You shifted up onto your knees. Swallowed down the lump that had started to form in your throat; an unspoken word. Sex was not entirely foreign to you. You had been touched, had touched a man you had believed you had feelings for. Feelings of love, you thought then shoved aside that string of memory. Touched and been touched, however had never fully given yourself to another. As such you were almost grateful for the limitations that prevented you and Kylo from moving too fast, too far.

His hands drew aside the barriers of clothing that had concealed him. You lowered your gaze from his wings to his cock, and found yourself holding in a gasp. To see was different than feeling in this case. He was thick, long. You imagined him moving inside of you, realizing that he would fill you completely. He would stretch you open wider than ever you had been before. A shudder rippled along your spine. You shifted, pressed your thighs together. Clenched your hands and felt more blood spill from your fingers.

You still wished to touch him. More than you had before, you wanted to feel his cock in your hand, and so you reached forward and slid your limb along his shaft. Kylo remained still. He let you explore at your own pace, his hungry gaze devouring you. You skimmed your thumb along the spongy head of his erection that already leaked precum. You drew the bead of precum to your mouth, tasting him. Kylo’s wings audibly twitched, a gentle puff of air skidding along your face.

Red smears streaked his shaft where your blood had remained behind. You swallowed at the sight of it, reached forward again, spread more. Kylo released a low growl, something animalistic and quite like a warning. _There are limits,_ his voice repeated in your mind. Damn them all, you wished to hiss back. But you were no fool, and you had a strong feeling that he would end the session if you pushed things too far. Adrenaline from the night’s activities was giving you things high, this courage. The reality of that, as well, helped you to center yourself.

You wrapped your hand around him at the base of his cock and stroked upwards. Your saliva and blood aided in the smooth movement that drew from him a soft sigh. You trailed your fingers up and down, ghosting along his flesh, drawing patterns with the gathered wetness. His cock bobbed between his legs, throbbed in your hand. Kylo’s wings, too, twitched. They fluttered differently than you had seen them do in the past. Emboldened, you gripped him more firmly. The tantalizing urge to taste him on your tongue nearly convinced you to run your tongue along him. Yet you waited. Observed him, his every reaction, and marveled over the fact that he was vulnerable in this moment. Perhaps more vulnerable than he had been in--how long? Years? Months? When had he last had a lover? And had the partner been completely willing?

_Don’t think dark thoughts,_ you scolded yourself, and melted back into the present.

You placed your other hand, palm flat, on his lower belly to feel his muscles tense at your touch. You curved your spine, arching backwards a fraction so that you could peer up at him. So that you could expose your breasts more to him; that was where his eyes had traveled when at last he had broken his gaze from the sight of your hand working his cock. Kylo reached forward and touched the side of your head, his fingertips ghosting over the surface of your hair.

Finally, _finally_ you pressed your mouth against his cock and parted your lips to run your tongue along its surface. Tasted him more thoroughly than that bead of precum. His saltiness, his flesh; you inhaled the musky scent that was him, a sort of spiciness that aroused your senses, that aroused _you_. You felt your body begin to respond more earnestly. Felt the dampness forming between your legs, endured the ache of desire that blossomed in you and had you clenching around nothing.

You hollowed your cheeks and took more of him in. Above you, Kylo’s wings fluttered again. Another gentle breeze wafted over you, cooling you from the intense heat that might otherwise have consumed your entire being. The alternating temperatures sent new shivers down your spine. You pulled back then pushed forward once more, swallowing more of him. You felt the weight of his cock on your tongue, which you undulated, teasing him. Feeling the blood pumping through his vein. Tasting your blood on him. It registered to you that this only added to the spice. You moaned around him, your hands wrapping around the portion of his cock that left your mouth when you drew back again. Less blood coated the surface of his erection; the wound on your finger had not been deep enough to drain you much.

As though he could read your mind, Kylo smeared his own blood along his length. His thumb and your mouth moved in the same direction, back and forth, up and down. The sweet tang of his blood still like candy that left your mouth watering, that rendered you hungry for more. Another moan vibrated up your throat. After gathering the smeared blood on your tongue, you concentrated on the sensitive head of his cock with your mouth while your hand worked the rest of his shaft in slow strokes.

He began to release a noise that caught in his throat then was drowned out by the beating of his wings. You wished he had not masked the sound. What little you had heard of it, of his pleasure, had stuttered your heart, which now pounded more forcefully in your chest.

In the next moment, you removed your mouth from his cock in order to give your jaw a pause. It felt stretched wide, a little uncomfortable. Blinking up at the faerie prince, you allowed yourself time to properly take in the sight of him as you worked towards that blissful moment where he would come undone. Where, hopefully, you would see past the figurative mask he wore now that the literal one was discarded. A low growl emerged from him, and you offered a ginger grin before engulfing him once more. His eyelids were the ones to flutter as a result.

You bobbed your head, your hand in constant motion as above you Kylo trembled. His wings twitched again, the air stirring. Then those wings drew nearer to his body, tightening as he came, his cum coating your tongue. You swallowed, fascinated with how its saltiness contrasted and complemented the sweetness of his blood. His fingers ran along your scalp before they located your ears. He toyed with the sensitive flesh as you stroked his softening cock, which soon slipped from your mouth.

A rosy blush dusted his cheeks. You drank in the sight of this while standing, while you helped him adjust his pants after tucking away his cock. “You look nice like that,” you said, careful to keep your voice lower so as to not come off as demeaning. His eyes shifted about your face. “You’re going to draw more blood from me now, aren’t you?”

“Yes.” The depth of his voice made your heart stuttered, your stomach somersault. His hands were on the backs of your wrists, fingers trailing back and forth then in circles. It was the most soothing you could remember him being. Perhaps you would suck his dick more often, if this was the result. Kylo took a step nearer to you, the toes of his shoes hitting yours. “My trust is not easily given.”

This statement proved to raise more questions in your mind, none of which you spoke aloud. What you did do was allow him to turn both of your hands over so that your palms faced the sky. Kylo set his fingers on the heel of your hand, trailed them upwards until the tips of his middle fingers were on yours. Your gaze was locked onto his even as goosebumps formed along your flesh. His teeth did not pierce your flesh on this occurrence, but instead there were tendrils of dark power that traveled down the lengths of his arms to his fingers until they located your fingers. Three on each hand were wrapped by that energy after blood began to spill from the tiny incisions that had been made.

You winced at the sting and held your breath. Seeing magic at work was something you had previously believed was an experience you would never have, not like this. Nothing aside from the curse that stole so many lives and souls. Now you were becoming a part of—it was something, although you could not name it. A spell? No, this was different. A sort of ritual that would have a long lasting impact on your life. You wished that Kylo would be more upfront as to what that would be, however you had already agreed to do this.

He claimed that he was trusting you, and you believed him. This faerie prince that had been betrayed, been manipulated, he had saved your life and soul. You wanted to repay that debt.

The tendrils of darkness twisted around, piercing Kylo’s fingers and drawing blood that flowed down the lengths of that darkness until the red mixed with yours. Those mingled droplets of blood thinned out, draping over your fingers then wrapping around. You furrowed your brow when the blood began to take shape. Threads. Red threads at that, not unlike the ones that attached you to Kylo and Ben. Now six more were formed.

“Their fate tied to yours,” Kylo said. You jerked your gaze back up to his face. He remained concentrated on the ritual. Now a new source of power crawled from him. It radiated warmth that had you thinking of Ben. _Light magic?_ You assumed that to be the case. “Their lives in your hands.”

The warm power turned golden and it, too, thinned into strands of thread. These strands wound around the six red threads. You mouthed the words that Kylo had spoken and took into consideration the fact that this ritual was attaching to you six new lives, the lives and fates of the Knights of Ren. He was trusting you with them. They would protect you as much as you would protect them.

Four of the threads remained slack save for where they encircled your fingers. The remaining two tightened. You felt pressure that preceded tugs, as though there were individuals on the other end using the threads to locate you. Not once did you look away from Kylo to seek out the approaching individuals.

There was no dramatic gust of wind, however there were bootsteps that began to grow in volume. One set then two. Another of the threads grew taut, a fourth. The fifth and sixth tightened simultaneously. The threads tugged in different directions. You listened to the six approaching faeries while continuing to lock gazes with Kylo. Clanks of metal echoed along with the footsteps. You assumed these sounds belonged to whatever weapons the Knights of Ren possessed aside from their own dark magics. Again did the urge to peek at the approaching fairies arise in you, and again did you successfully resist.

“Don’t be afraid.” You swallowed thickly at his words; he had spoken them just two nights before. If he had been anyone else, you would have felt foolish for trusting him as much as you did in so short a time. If anything, _he_ was trusting _you_ more.

“I’m not,” you said in answer, and you felt proud upon realizing that you spoke the truth. Fear had stopped clawing at you since you had kissed him. That may be temporary, but you would accept this sense of peace for however long it did last.

The first of the dark faeries drew within line of your peripheral vision. The Knight of Ren wore armor not dissimilar in style to what Kylo possessed to include a helmet that covered their face. The second Knight was no different, and so you were unsurprised to learn that each of the other four were much the same. There were subtle differences, namely in their helmets, and when you at last allowed yourself a better look, you drank in those unique aspects. Along with their differing helmets, their weapons varied and you assumed that their choices spoke much of their personalities. Unless it was a faerie thing to have their specialties chosen by another when they were younger, when they first began training as a Knight of Ren.

You would have felt like an outsider amongst these seven if not for the threads that connected you to them, if not for the slumbering Ben in your pocket. There was instead a sense of belonging. It was quite similar to the kinship you had with Rey. Your thoughts turning to her momentarily, you wondered what she might have suggested in this situation. She would have stood by your side had she been present.

_I’m not alone in this._ The thought made your throat feel thick. You swallowed, allowed yourself time to think of Rose and even the syragh named Finn. Without their support, you would have been struggling more than you were.

“What answers are most pertinent to our survival?”

Your gaze once more darted about the six gathered Knights of Ren while you considered the question that Kylo had posed. You had countless questions, how could you know which were unimportant in the grand scheme of things? In that silence, you closed your eyes and tried to work through the events of the past few nights. Your eyelids were heavy. It was with effort that you reopened your eyes to meet Kylo’s stare.

“Does the succubus know what I am?” One of the Knights turned their head in Kylo’s direction. A second and third did as well while the remaining three did not avert their gazes from you.

He pressed his wings more tightly against his body. “She has her suspicions, yet I doubt she realizes _what_ you are.” A small part of you had hoped that he would let slip the revelation, a name, _something_ to answer the more selfish questions. He closed the distance between your body and his. You felt your body warm at his close proximity; even with an audience, he was not shy. “Phasma is no fool. Inserting herself into this situation would go against her survival instincts.”

There was a pregnant pause before you spoke again. “What are their names?” You cleared your throat just as Kylo parted his lips. Looking to the first Knight, you repeated your inquiry, altering it slightly so that it was more personal. “What’s your name?”

He took a step back, which tugged on the braided thread that attached the pair of you. “Cardo.”

You twisted at the waist to repeat your question to the next Knight, moving around in a circle as you were offered their names. Kuruk. Trudgen. Vicrul. Ap’lek. Ushar. They were each male from what you could tell, and every one of them had not offered additional information. Vicrul had taken a step forward rather than in retreat. Ushar had tilted his head while saying his name. Ap’lek had toyed with the weapon in his hand. Trudgen and Kuruk had been more casual, rolling their shoulders and shrugging respectively. They were unbothered by your presence, as though it was _normal_ to be so close to a human.

_Half human,_ you reminded yourself. “Thank you.” It would have been rude to not express gratitude that they had been somewhat forthcoming. You looked to Kylo, discovering that his expression was bemused. “What?”

“You still haven’t guessed.” As though it was obvious. “I offered a hint. I gave a name.”

“When?” His eyes pinched in the corners, and you knew instantly that he would not elaborate on that. At least not yet. He was having too much fun watching you squirm. You huffed, rolled your eyes, and returned to the other matter. “How long does this ritual last for?”

You would be willing to repeat it, however you first wanted more information. If it was only a few hours, planning out when and where to give him your blood was imperative to ensure higher chances of success.

“It can weaken, however the connection will not fade entirely unless fulfilled or severed.” It was Ushar that spoke to you, and you faced him. Grateful, you nodded and thought on that. Fulfilled; you imagined that this had to do with the red thread of fate. Severed, then, would deal with the golden thread of life. You did not want to think about that. If severing equated to death then...no. Best not go there.

You felt for Ben, encouraged by the way he rolled over in his sleep towards your fingers. _Sleep._ How you were beginning to crave such rest. You removed your hand from the sprite and covered your mouth to shield your yawn from view. There was no time for rest, you told yourself. Not yet at least. The Knights of Ren would first need to know how it was that they could help. Otherwise you would be giving Snoke and his minions and even larger lead. This train of thought reminded you of the imp king.

Kylo nodded in approval when you mentioned Armitage Hux’s actions. That was indeed a question that required answers before a full gameplan could be made. If Armitage was willing to be a temporary ally, you would use that. It was not as though you weren’t expecting an eventual betrayal.

“She’s exhausted.” You believed that Cardo spoke those words, although it may have been Kuruk. This was difficult to know for certain when you were busily hiding another yawn behind your hand.

“Hmm.” Kylo placed a hand on your shoulder and steered you towards a tree, where he had sit in its shade. You did not fight him though a part of you wanted to. The exhaustion truly was getting the better of you. “Rest. I will wake you once I speak with the Knights.” There would be much to tell them; they did not yet know of the situation with Phasma, not in full. Nor did they know what had transpired with Snoke’s red armored guards.

You would allow him time to speak with the six other faeries while you napped. It was what you needed; you were not a child that would fight against your body’s basic needs. Rest while you could. Who knew when you would be on the run again?

“Fine,” you murmured, curling onto your side so as to keep Ben safe from being squished. You idly wondered if Kylo would speak to the Knights about his lighter half, or if they already knew about the sprite. Perhaps they had just as many questions as you did. You doubted it, yet the thought made you smile and allowed you to peacefully drift off into unconsciousness.


End file.
